The Gothic in The Hound of the Baskervilles through Interpretive

Genre Theory

Matias Vanhala
University of Eastern Finland
Philosophical Faculty
School of Humanities
English Language and Culture
April 2022
Itä-Suomen yliopisto, Filosofinen tiedekunta
Humanistinen osasto
Englannin kieli ja kulttuuri
Vanhala, Matias R.: The Gothic in The Hound of the Baskervilles through Interpretive Genre Theory
Opinnäytetutkielma, 42 sivua
Tutkielman ohjaaja: Professori Jopi Nyman
Huhtikuu 2022

Asiasanat: englanninkielinen kirjallisuus, genretutkimus, genrehybridit, gotiikka, salapoliisikirjallisuus,

Baskervillen koira, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Tutkielmassa perehdytään gotiikkaan Sir Arthur Conan Doylen romaanissa Baskervillen koira (1902)
hyödyntäen tulkitsevaa genreteoriaa. Erityisenä huomion kohteena on se, mitä vaikutuksia goottilaisen
kirjallisuuden genre-elementeillä saattaa olla romaanin tulkintaan salapoliisikertomuksena.

Tutkielman johdannossa esitellään tutkielman päätavoitteet, rakenne, sekä aiempia tutkimuksia gotiikan
kuvauksista romaanissa. Tätä lukua seuraa katsaus tutkielmassa esiteltäviin ja käytettäviin genretutkimuksen
teorioihin, joiden pohjalta rakennetaan teoreettinen malli romaanin analyysia varten. Tämän jälkeen
tarkastellaan gotiikan ja salapoliisikirjallisuuden historiallisia genreominaisuuksia, jotta nämä ominaisuudet
voidaan paremmin tulkita tutkittavassa tekstissä hyödyntäen aiemmin pohjustettua teoreettista mallia.

Tutkielman analyysiosiossa Doylen romaania analysoidaan tätä teoriaa käyttäen. Jakso keskittyy
tarkastelemaan romaanin sisältämiä tohtori Watsonin kuvauksia gotiikan elementteinä ja Sherlock Holmesin
osuuksia salapoliisikirjallisuuden edustajina. Kolmas kappale on osioitu näiden painopisteiden mukaisesti.
Analyysin viimeisessä jaksossa arvioidaan romaanin genrepiirteitä sekä niiden käyttöä genrehybridin
luomisessa. Tutkielma päättyy lukuun neljä, jossa käydään läpi tutkielman keskeisimmät johtopäätökset
gotiikan ja salapoliisikirjallisuuden genreominaisuuksista vuorovaikuttavina ja toisiaan tukevina elementteinä
vastakkainasettelun ja toinen toisensa kumoavan vaikutuksen sijaan. Tämän vuorovaikutuksen muodostama
genrehybridi avaa uusia tapoja lukea niin tutkittua romaania sekä avaa uusia mahdollisuuksia kirjallisuuden
tutkimukseen tarkastellun genreteorian kautta.
University of Eastern Finland, Philosophical Faculty
School of Humanities
English Language and Culture
Vanhala, Matias R.: The Gothic in The Hound of the Baskervilles through Interpretive Genre Theory
Thesis, 42 pages
Supervisor: Professor Jopi Nyman
April 2022

Keywords: English literature, genre theory, genre hybrids, Gothic fiction, detective fiction, The Hound of the
Baskervilles, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

This study examines the Gothic in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novel The Hound of the Baskervilles (1902). It
utilizes an interpretative genre theory with a focus on what effects the Gothic genre features might have on
reading the novel as a detective story.

The introduction to the thesis presents the primary objectives to the study, its the general structure, and
previous research on the Gothic elements in the novel. The following chapter examines genre theory applied
in the study more closely in order to construct a model for analysing the novel. This is followed with a closer
examination at the generic features of both Gothic fiction and detective fiction in order to better interpret
these elements, utilizing the previously built model.

In the third chapter, the novel is analysed using the interpretive model, with a focus on examining Doctor
Watson’s descriptions as Gothic elements and Sherlock Holmes’ sections as a representative of detective
fiction in respective sections. The analysis concludes with an evaluation on the usage of generic features and
how this affects the resulting genre hybrid.

The thesis is concluded with presenting central findings concerning the Gothic and detective fiction features as
interacting with and complementing one another, as opposed to being conflicted in their functions. The
resulting genre hybrid not only allows for new ways of reading of the studied novel, but also enables new
approaches to studying literature through an interpretive model.
Table of Contents

1. Introduction 1
1.1 Aims and Structure 1
1.2. Previous Research on The Hound of the Baskervilles 2
2. Theoretical Background 5
2.1. Genre, Interpretation, and Genre Hybrids 5
2.2. The Gothic 10
2.3. Detective Fiction 13
3. Analysis 17
3.1. The Hound Legend 17
3.2. Watson’s Descriptions and His Gothic Narrative 19
3.3. Holmes’ Deductions and His Detective Story 26
3.4. Evaluating the Text 33
4. Conclusion 39
Works Cited 41
 1

1. Introduction

The concept of genre could be viewed as informing a reader’s expectations when choosing a fiction to read.
Genre titles such as ‘science fiction’, ‘romance’, or ‘fantasy’ most likely create an idea as to the kinds of
structural and thematic elements that can be found within a given work of literature. However, genre does not
necessarily end at disparate elements floating on the pages of a book or the screen of a tablet after the reader
has decided what type of a story he or she is planning to read. Viewed differently, not only as a classificatory
system, genre could help the reader inform himself or herself on the different ways a text can be read and the
different meanings that can be retrieved from the text. Additionally, a deeper understanding of the relations
and interactions between various genres could reveal new connections between literary texts throughout
history. This study examines genre, generic features, and the way in which these can be used in interpreting a
chosen text through its mixture of genres with a case study of the Gothic in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The
Hound of the Baskervilles (1902).

1.1. Aims and Structure

The aim of this study is to examine the Gothic elements in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s third Sherlock Holmes
novel The Hound of the Baskervilles (1902) through an interpretative genre theory model; with a focus on the
effect these elements may have on the story as a detective novel. The initial argument presented is that the
Gothic genre features associated with the character of Doctor Watson represent a more fantastical viewpoint,
directly opposing the rational viewpoint represented by the character of Sherlock Holmes and his role in the
detective story.
The study begins with an introduction presenting first a brief summary of the novel that is followed by
previous studies on the novel in order to establish an understanding on previous interpretations of the genre
elements found in the novel. These previous studies include Nils Clausson’s article “Degeneration, Fin-de-
Siecle Gothic, and the Science of Detection: Arthur Conan Doyle's The Hound of the Baskervilles and the
Emergence of the Modern Detective Story” (2005), as well as Jesse Oak Taylor-Ide’s “Ritual and the Liminality
of Sherlock Holmes in The Sign of Four and The Hound of the Baskervilles” (2005). Following these previous
studies, and taking into account the purpose and extent of this study, the theoretical framework for the
concept of genre in interpretation is introduced in Chapter 2, with a focus on genre as a descriptive tool in
interpreting and analysing literary texts. The main resource for building this theoretical framework is Alastair
Fowler’s Kinds of Literature: An Introduction to the Theory of Genres and Modes (1982) that is supplemented
with articles and studies on usage of genre in interpretation. This is followed with a closer examination of the
two genres under study, the Gothic and detective fiction, and what is generally understood to pertain to these
 2

two genres, utilizing previous research and handbooks on the subject. The primary text used for this study is
an annotated edition from 2006, selected for bringing additional insight into the novel.
In Chapter 3, the theoretical background will then be followed by an analysis on the novel, beginning
with a brief recount of the Hound legend as told in the novel. The different genre elements are then examined
in two sections: Watson’s narrative is shown to be more concerned with the Gothic genre conventions,
whereas the analysis of Holmes’ narrative is argued to gravitate more towards the detective fiction genre
features. These interpreted features will then be used in evaluating the novel in regards to its use of different
generic features and their mixture. The final Chapter 4 is a conclusion presenting the study’s central findings
and ideas for future research, followed by a bibliography of cited works.

1.2. Previous Research on The Hound of the Baskervilles

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930) is perhaps best known for his short stories and novels starring detective
Sherlock Holmes and his friend and self-appointed chronicler Doctor John H. Watson. However, it should be
noted that although Holmes is his most prominent creation, Doyle was a prolific author who touched upon a
variety of genres over the course of his career. It might not be untruthful to argue that Doyle was a genre
writer capable of utilizing various styles and genre conventions in his storytelling.
In The Hound of the Baskervilles, Sherlock Holmes is approached by Doctor Mortimer, who asks for his
assistance in protecting the heir to Baskerville Hall after the sudden death of the estate’s previous master. The
recount of the mysterious events surrounding Sir Charles Baskerville’s death could be argued to frame the
novel as more than a classical ‘whodunnit’, as Martin Priestman describes classical detective stories in Crime
Fiction: From Poe to the Present (6). As Holmes is preoccupied with matters in London, he instructs Watson to
accompany the heir, Sir Henry Baskerville, to Baskerville Hall and be on the lookout for any facts that “may
have a bearing, however indirect, upon the case” (Doyle, 460). Watson acquaints himself with the people
working at the Hall, the neighbours, and local events, even hearing the howls of the legendary hellhound.
Holmes eventually joins Watson at the Hall after some subterfuge, not long before unravelling the truth
behind the case. The supernatural background of the legend told at the beginning, however, remains
throughout the novel until the mystery is solved in the final pages and the hound is revealed to be mortal, a
plot orchestrated by a missing Baskerville heir vying for the family inheritance.
Sherlock Holmes, in his role as the detective, could be described as the embodiment of logic and reason,
utilizing his cognitive power of deduction to solve crimes that mystify most other people, namely the police.
Jesse Oak Taylor-Ide notes how “Sherlock Holmes is generally understood, and indeed presents himself, as the
ultimate rational being—the champion of the solid, masculine, British mind in the face of the foreign
mysticism and irrationality” (Taylor-Ide, 55), with ‘foreign mysticism and irrationality’ seemingly often
emerging from the British colonies. Despite this image of Holmes as a rational and logical being, Taylor-Ide
 3

argues that he is “in fact more complicated, serving as a mediator between late-Victorian British society and
the irrational, supernatural, and foreign elements threatening it” (55). This duality between logic and
irrationality is perhaps best illustrated in the way in which Holmes, a seemingly rational person, uses narcotics
during the times when he is not working on any cases. Of course, Holmes himself rationalizes this action as
only using the drugs as substitutes for the mental stimulation usually offered by his work, the drugs’ effects on
his body being insignificant. Moreover, Holmes’ deductions often require him to meditate on the subject, with
the assistance of pipe tobacco, in order to form a complete picture of the events surrounding the crime he is
tasked to solve. For a being of rational thought and logic, Holmes’ methods appear removed from these
popular characterizations of the detective. In The Hound of the Baskervilles, Doctor Mortimer even notes how
Holmes is only the second highest expert in Europe on the subject of solving crimes, as “to the man of
precisely scientific mind the work of Monsieur Bertillon” (Doyle, 397; emphasis added) holds more substance.
Alphonse Bertillon, as noted in the annotations on page 397, devised an intricate system of classifying
criminals based on their physical dimensions and measurements in order to counteract the effects of disguises.
The implicature between contrasting Holmes with Bertillon appears to point out how Holmes’ methods are
not ‘precisely scientific’, and thus owing at least parts to his intuition, although as a “practical man of affairs”
(397) he stands alone in his profession.
Nils Clausson brings to attention in his article “Degeneration, Fin-de-Siècle Gothic, and the Science of
Detection: Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles and the Emergence of the Modern Detective
Story” (2005) how, if read as a contemporary Gothic novel in the context of Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 The
Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde or Bram Stoker’s 1897 Dracula, “one would have no difficulty
categorizing it as a Gothic tale” (Clausson, 65). By this argument, Clausson questions the divide between the
supernatural Gothic and the scientific detective story. As a detective story, Clausson claims, The Hound of the
Baskervilles “appears to dispel magic and mystery, to make everything explicit, accountable, subject to
scientific analysis” (Clausson, 63). However, Clausson continues, “as a Gothic tale that relies heavily on the
conventions of contemporary Gothic narratives and on the discourse of degeneration, it questions and even
subverts the aspirations of criminal science to subject crime and criminality to scientific analysis” (63). This
duality ultimately questions the “(assumed) stable generic opposition between Gothic tale and detective story
by showing itself to be simultaneously both Gothic tale and detective story” (65). It should be noted that the
distinction between a Gothic tale and a detective story is primarily achieved by the way in which, for most of
the story, Holmes is absent from Baskerville Hall, as mentioned in the story summary. It therefore becomes
Watson’s task to record what transpires at and around the Hall, with instructions to forward his observations
to Holmes via letter. Watson’s habit of dramatizing the cases is an established character trait from the
Sherlock Holmes short stories, and it is this habit that enables the Gothic atmosphere of Baskerville Hall and
the moor surrounding it. According to Clausson, “Holmes’s simple, empirical and unimaginative account of the
 4

events and Watson’s complex, impressionistic and highly imaginative narrative exemplify the novel’s two
conflicting genres, ratiocinative detective story and Gothic tale” (69).
An interpretation of The Hound of the Baskervilles by analysing its genre features would thus appear to
focus on the aspect how the Gothic genre elements conflict and contrast with the genre elements of detective
fiction. Holmes’ character and his abilities of deduction are also placed under inquiry due to the way he
interacts with the Gothic elements in a mediatory role, as mentioned by Taylor-Ide. The combination of the
two genres could be viewed as a way of creating a mixed space where the elements of both genres affect the
way in which the novel can be viewed either as contrasting or combining different features. In light of this
consideration, it is necessary to more closely examine the way in which genres may mix in a literary work and
how this mixture might affect the ways of reading of a literary text.
 5

2. Theoretical Background

This section examines the concept of genre, beginning with what is commonly understood when the concept
of ‘genre’ is uttered. It would be easy to view genre only as simple categories of texts but, as Alastair Fowler
will later point out, a descriptive approach to genre is also possible. As opposed to a prescriptive view of genre,
where literary texts are classified into groups, the theoretical framework utilized in this study will instead focus
on the descriptive viewpoint, where texts of resembling genres share meaning through their generic features.
Examining these generic features could thus allow the interpretation of a literary work through meaningful
generic markers. In this section, the differences between the prescriptive and descriptive viewpoints will be
examined, which is followed with a discussion of how different genres may combine or mix together.
Recognizing meaningful generic markers could be argued to be a crucial aspect when attempting to interpret
literary texts through genre theory, and, as such, a theoretical framework will be introduced in order to
accomplish the aims of this study. The discussion on genres and interpretation will then be followed with a
closer examination of the generic features of both the Gothic and detective fiction in order to later examine
these features in the main text.

2.1. Genre, Interpretation, and Genre Hybrids

The concept of genre could be viewed as a system of categorization for different types of texts, both between
text types and within a genre of works. As Anis S. Bawarshi and Mary Jo Reiff point out in Genre: An
Introduction to History, Theory, Research, and Pedagogy (2010), “genre has been defined and used mainly as a
classificatory tool, a way of sorting and organizing kinds of texts and other cultured objects” (Bawarshi and
Reiff, 4). This definition would leave genre and associated texts bereft of any interaction with the reader,
serving only, as previously mentioned, as a means of placing different texts in relation to each other.
Taking this into account, Bawarshi and Reiff argue how “genres also structure our perceptions of literary
actions, representations, and identifications” (19). Genres thus inform the reader’s expectations and views on
the text he or she is about to read, and indeed, is reading. To illustrate this, Bawarshi and Reiff quote the
following example:
The clock on the mantelpiece said ten thirty, but someone had suggested recently that the clock
was wrong. As the figure of the dead woman lay on the bed in the front room, a no less silent
figure glided rapidly from the house. The only sounds to be heard were the ticking of that clock
and the loud wailing of an infant. (19)
Should the novel this paragraph comes from be titled “Murder at Maplethorpe”, the reader may read it as a
detective novel and thus turn his or her focus on the possible clues in the depicted scene (Bawarshi and Reiff,
 6

19), namely the broken clock, the victim, and the fleeing figure of the suspect. However, should the novel be
named “The Personal History of David Maplethorpe”, the novel ceases to be a detective novel and is instead
transformed into a Bildungsroman (Bawarshi and Reiff, 19), the principal character of which may very well be
the wailing infant whose life story is about to be told. The title alone could shift a reader’s first impressions on
the text he or she is about to embark on, influencing the way in which the text is read.
These perceptions of genre and conventions, however, inevitably bring forth certain limits. Jacques
Derrida postulates in “The Law of Genre” (1980) that “as soon as the word ‘genre’ is sounded, as soon as it is
heard, as soon as one attempts to conceive it, a limit is drawn. And when a limit is established, norms and
interdictions are not far behind” (Derrida, 56). Even as genre conventions inform and interact with the reader,
they also bind the events and actions within the story to a certain structure. These structures and conventions
can be viewed as relatively rigid: “one must respect a norm, one must not cross a line of demarcation, one
must not risk impurity, anomaly, or monstrosity”, or as Derrida continues, “genres should not intermix” (57), a
notion which will be demonstrated later in this study in regards to detective fiction.
And yet, Derrida argues, all texts participate in one or several genres, that there is no text without a
genre (65). By participating in a genre, a text “demarcates itself” (65) instead of being obligated to follow strict
rules and norms. Even as texts might follow ostensible genre conventions, they also participate in redefining
the genre or genres they take part in. As it is seemingly impossible for a text to be without a genre, so too
could it be argued against a text to remain within a single genre, or for that genre to remain unchanged during
this act of participation with other genres. Genres, it could thus be argued, are constantly mixing, borrowing
from and contributing to other genres. Perhaps more importantly, both authors and readers alike are often –
or are even required to be – aware of the genre or genres they are about to be involved in, whether writing or
reading.
In her article “The Relevance of Generic Frames for the Interpretation of Novels” (2010), Vera Nünning
notes how “interpretations of novels are often based on our (implicit) knowledge of genres, and not to be
aware of their characteristics may lead to quite fundamental misunderstandings” (Nünning, 66). Keeping with
this line of thought, Nünning continues how “readers who are not professional literary critics or scholars […]
do not usually reflect on the characteristics of particular subgenres, they still seem to have implicit
understanding of them, and know what to expect when they buy a ‘romance’ or ‘a detective novel’” (67).
These expectations are, in turn, formed on generic scripts and frames, which Nünning views as:
[…] forms of storing past experiences. Most importantly, they determine our expectations
concerning texts which we have not read as yet. […] Generic frames are therefore of the utmost
importance for the process of communication between writers and readers. Both sides are aware
of the existence of the frames, which are manifested in particular texts by means of (narrative or
poetic) techniques. (68)
 7

Genres, as previously noted by Derrida, are not immutable and texts that participate in a genre or genres also
shape and change how genres are understood. It could thus be argued that as genres change over time, so
would their associated scripts, frames, and conventions change as well. Indeed, as Nünning points out, genre
conventions “change quite significantly during longer – and sometimes shorter – periods of time”, which
“should lead to a corresponding change of generic frames” (68-69), that is, the expectations readers may have
of a given generic text. In order to examine a text through its genre, it would be important to take into account
the genre conventions of the time the text was written in, as well as compare these conventions to previous
works sharing similar frames. As Nünning posits, “generic frames can accordingly be conceptualised as
expectations derived from both the knowledge of textual properties and intertextual relations” (70; emphasis
added). Not only would these relations inform the reader’s expectations based on literary texts he or she may
have previously read, but it could also be argued that these relations could allow an author to modulate his or
her work utilising different generic conventions, whether by subverting frames or adding and mixing
characteristics of different genres. Identification of genre conventions, Nünning argues, “makes it possible to
trace developments, to see which works modify which features in what way, and to become aware of
innovation” (71). Furthermore, awareness of genre conventions and features allows for examining “in what
way a particular work uses and modifies these conventions. The uniqueness of a text, its originality and
innovation can only be recognised if one sets in relation to the common set of features” (73), which could be
argued to be an important aspect of interpreting literary texts through their generic features.
Alastair Fowler argues in Kinds of Literature (1982) how genre and generic resemblance are formed
through literary tradition, “a sequence of influence and imitation and inherited codes connecting works in the
genre” (42). These different codes and resemblances could be argued to be important in conveying different
ideas and concepts to the reader. Indeed, Fowler points out how genre has an important role in the
expressiveness of literary works, a “communicative value” (20) created out of shared literary conventions.
Literary communication, Fowler argues, “need not involve any special conventions at the grammatical or even
the lower rhetorical level. […] What literary coding always does is to confirm the work itself as well as its
message, not so much maximizing the efficiency as the integrity and the pleasure of its communication” (22).
This, in turn, can be achieved through introducing “conventions involving already familiar features (the
formulas of oral literature; stock characters) or by reiteration (rhetorical schemes of repetition; refrains;
thematic parallels)” or “confirming patterns” (22). In the way that genre incorporates and organizes other
literary codes, Fowler considers genre as the most important of these codes, presenting that “genre primarily
has to do with communication. It is an instrument not of classification or prescription, but of meaning” (22).
In keeping with this argument, Fowler criticizes the notion of genre as a tool of classification (37). Since
genres are in a constant state of change and could be argued to not have defining boundaries, classifying a
single literary work within a single genre would seem a hopeless endeavour, without even mentioning how a
 8

single work could very well be placed within multiple genres at the same time, ultimately calling to question
the meaningfulness of assigning genres. Building on this, Fowler notes:
Some have concluded that genre theory, being unhelpful in classification, is valueless. But in
reality genre is much less of a pigeonhole than a pigeon, and genre theory has a different use
altogether, being concerned with communication and interpretation. […] The main value of
genres is not classificatory. (37)
Instead of genres being tools for classifying literary works, Fowler returns to the concept of genre as “a
communication system, for the use of writers in writing, and readers and critics in reading and interpreting. No
writer needs to be persuaded of the value of genre. Studying it enables him to orient his composition to
previous work” (256). Against this classificatory understanding of genre, Fowler proposes a hermeneutic
model of criticism, building upon the concept of generic resemblance. In this model, the original work is first
constructed through its features, “what signals […] were originally sent? What vocabulary selections were
originally made? […] What conventions?” (256) This, in turn, is bound by the historical context in which the
work was written in. Pertaining to the objectives of this study, of particular interest are the different genre
conventions and generic features of the time used in The Hound of the Baskervilles and how these may have
differed from the expected structure and conventions of a detective novel.
Saija Isomaa elaborates on this approach in her “Genre Theory after the Linguistic Turn: An Anti-
Essentialist, Hermeneutic Approach to Literary Genres” (2010), noting how the focus on interpretation is on
historical genres and generic resemblance between different works and the work under study (Isomaa, 130),
this is, placing literary works on a generic tradition. In order to examine these generic features, however, the
reader must first identify them:
The reader also has a role in the process of identifying genres, because it is the reader who pays
attention to the alleged similarities between literary works and who proposes a generic
interpretation. […] This is also one of the reasons why a reader may be unaware of the genre of
the work she is reading: she is not aware of other works written in the genre or is not paying
attention to the similarities. (Isomaa, 126-127)
Thus it could be argued that in order to interpret a literary work through its genre and draw meaning from
these features, an understanding of different generic markers must first be achieved. For the scope of this
study, it thus becomes crucial to examine the genre conventions of both the Gothic as well as the detective
novel before attempting to interpret the interplay of the two in The Hound of the Baskervilles.
In order to approach this interplay of different genres, it may prove beneficial to examine the different
ways in which genres may combine. Fowler argues how “inclusion is a fertile source of generic transformation”
(180), which may over time lead to literary change. However, this change does not necessarily occur unless the
included genre is “structurally assimilated; or if its proportion to the matrical work is large; or if it is regularly
linked to the matrical genre”, or as Fowler points out, the inclusion of an epigram in a novel does not result in
 9

an epigrammatic novel (180). Although there have been arguments in favour of keeping genres separate,
Fowler notes how “generic mixture can be found in good classical authors, while in neoclassical English
literature, mixed kinds positively thrived” (181), citing examples such as the satiric epic or tragic satire. The
historical stages of generic mixture, according to Fowler, follow a sequence of “apparent generic chaos;
reassertion of pure genres and revision of labels; and new mixtures, progressively more audacious” (181).
Following this line of thought, it could be argued that thus broadly defined generic mixture is the process in
which two or more genres are combined, with the combination resulting in a new descriptive genre.
The “most obvious sort of generic mixture”, Fowler argues, “is the outright hybrid, where two or more
complete repertoires are present in such proportions that no one of them dominates” (183). A tragicomic
genre hybrid could, for example, operate under a double plot, distributing characters “between tragic and
comic plots”, or by mixing different social classes in its story (186). It could thus be argued that the characters
in a story may embody and represent different genre conventions and frames, the hybrid nature of the text
resulting from the interactions and contrasts between these different representations. As an example, Fowler
presents William Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale:
In its pastoral tragicomic scenes Polixenes and Perdita mingle with the real rustics–indeed “very
daintily”–under exquisitely inappropriate disguises. King Polixenes, bent on tragic purposes, wears
a shepherd’s clothes and argues in favor of mixture. Perdita, noble by nature but seeming rustic
through the mask of her nurture, and disguised again for the sheepshearing feast, as a goddess,
argues the reverse. Sophisticated capitalization on the indecorum of generic mixture could hardly
go further–unless it does in the same play, in the clown’s nuntius speech, whose heaped disasters
carry to absurdity the multiplicity of incidents objected to in romance. And this in the very scene
that sutures the play’s tragic and comical-romantic parts. (186; emphasis added)
From this point of view, it would be important to examine the characters appearing in a given text when
attempting to analyse the different generic conventions the text may include. In a generic mixture such as the
hybrid, interactions are not necessarily limited to occurring between fictional characters but may also extend
to interactions between different genres through these characters. This is crucial when attempting to
distinguish the different generic markers in a text, because generic interpretation becomes difficult, if not
outright impossible, if the reader does not recognize or ignores the different frames presented, regardless of
their form in the text.
In the final step of the interpretative model, the work under study is evaluated based on its generic
features. This, however, does not necessarily mean that the generic work is classified. Instead, evaluation
seeks to find differences between resembling works. As Fowler points out, “even if we cannot define tragedy,
we can say something about how Elizabethan revenge tragedy differs from some other subgenres” (274). This
links back to Nünning’s previously mentioned concept of finding innovation through modulation and
modification, and how these relate to the earlier examples of shared generic features between works, as well
 10

as the wider historical understanding of particular genres and their relations to other, differing genres.
Innovation, however, is not the only way of evaluation. Fowler notes how “definite works are valued for
qualities other than generic originality. They may even seem conventional – fulfilling rather than breaking the
rules. But this can be a deceptive matter. A classic work obeying obvious rules may break others less obvious”
(275).
In sum, the theoretical framework used in this study is based on a model of interpreting a given text
through its generic features. The first step in this model is to examine the text and construct it using the
generic markers found within, paying close attention to the concept of generic resemblance, that all literary
texts exist in a literary tradition, and thus may share their generic features with past texts. After these generic
features have been identified, the text may then be interpreted in this context. Once the text has been
interpreted through its generic features, it can be evaluated in relation of its usage of generic features and
how it might differ from other resembling works. In the case of this study, this model will be utilized in
examining how the different genre features interact with each other and how this interaction affects the
generic nature of The Hound of the Baskervilles as a detective novel, particularly in consideration of its generic
frame. In order to begin with the first step in the proposed model, it is crucial to first investigate the history
behind the Gothic and detective fiction, as well as their generic conventions and frames before starting to
examine the generic mixture.

2.2. The Gothic

In order to properly utilize the proposed framework, the individual genres under study, as well as their generic
markers and genre conventions, should be first examined in more detail. The Gothic genre in literature
emerged in the 18th century. Andrew Smith recounts in Gothic Literature (2013) how the Enlightenment
movement caused certain proponents of the Romantic movement to challenge its virtues of rationality,
arguing that, “the complexity of human experience could not be explained by an inhuman rationalism” (Smith,
2), but by valuing emotion and imagination. In History of the Gothic: Gothic Literature 1764-1824 (2009), Carol
Davison argues how Horace Walpole’s 1765 The Castle of Otranto, often recognized as the first Gothic novel,
not only contained a monster but “in terms of its act of combining stylistic and formal conventions from broad
cross-section of literary modes, ranging from Elizabethan drama and medieval romance to the sentimental
novel and graveyard poetry, it was literally monstrous” (Davison, 58). Walpole’s defiance with his work, as
Davison notes:
came in response to both Enlightenment rationalism […] and the ruling literary order of the day,
known as neoclassicism, which stressed universal truths, tradition, ideals, and ordered and
controlled landscapes. Novelty, improvisation and invention, qualities cherished by Walpole and
the Romantic movement, ran counter to the latter neoclassical creed. (58-59)
 11

However, despite being partially opposed to the Enlightenment idea of rationally comprehensible
objective reality, the early Gothic was highly formulaic in its settings and characters (Smith, 3), including such
examples as castles, ruins, aristocrats and monks, although these could be viewed as hiding implicit, allegorical
meaning behind seemingly recurring “mise-en-scène”, which could be considered a distinctive feature of the
Gothic (Fowler, 68), and thus one of its crucial generic features. Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto “already
sported all the features that were later used in a host of other works” (Nünning, 71) by subsequent authors:
The setting is an old castle, with a number of labyrinthine subterranean corridors, which give way
to vaults and connect the castle to a church and a monastery that are isolated as well. The story
takes place in the middle ages – a period which enjoyed a new interest in the late eighteenth
century […] In the context of the novel, however, it serves to denote a time that is far removed
from the everyday reality of the readers, a time in which strange (and fascinating) morals and
manners prevailed. (71)
As Jarlath Killeen notes in History of the Gothic: Gothic Literature 1825-1914 (2009), “in the Gothic the past is
never completely finished with; instead, it has a nasty habit of bursting through into the present, displacing
the contemporary with the supposedly outdated” (Killeen, 28). The importance of this displacement, Killeen
argues, is due to the way in which “the Victorians were enthralled by the idea of Progress and, superficially at
least, devoted to the notion of ‘modernisation’, self-consciously modern in social and cultural terms. In broad
terms, ‘modernity’ is centrally concerned with both rejecting the past and laying it to rest” (28). From this
point of view, considering the way in which the Gothic in part rejected the values of rationality associated with
the aforementioned Enlightenment movement and neoclassicism, it could be argued that Gothic genre
conventions act as a medium for reminding readers of the inadequacy in rationally explaining the human
experience, as previously mentioned by Smith.
Nünning presents the argument that Gothic fiction, based on the concept of the sublime, “was meant to
inspire awe and terror” (Nünning, 71). In The Castle of Otranto, “the terror is created by the plight of the
young damsel in distress, who has to find her way alone in the dark hallways and vaults in order to flee the
tyrant” (Nünning, 71), a convention often found in later works in the genre. This terror is further reinforced by
different supernatural elements, which not only inspire “fear and bewilderment in the heart of every beholder”
but also indicate the errors in the tyrant or monster’s actions (Nünning, 71). The early Gothic is intricately
associated with its contemporary events, such as the French Revolution of 1789-1799, which influenced the
British Gothic and the depictions of terror within, possibly reflecting the views of writers at the time (Smith, 3).
The Gothic can, according to Smith, be read from various perspectives, such as psychoanalytical, historicist,
feminist, or colonial and postcolonial (5). Because of this, Smith argues that the Gothic “should not be read as
a form which passively replicates contemporary cultural debates about politics, philosophy, or gender, bur
rather reworks, develops, and challenges them” (8). As such, it could be argued that the Gothic can be utilized
in order to depict different ideas, anxieties or issues in society and, indeed, works as a mirror for these ideas.
 12

According to Nünning, the previously mentioned supernatural elements may be accompanied by “a number of
other stock features”, which “include implausible, but possible happenings like strange prophesies or thunder-
storms which mirror the disturbance of the social order” (Nünning, 72).
The strange events occurring in Gothic novels could thus be argued to take allegorical meanings as well,
reflecting the clash of ideals and movements of the time. It should also be noted how the early Gothic genre
can be divided into two schools, “the school of terror” and “the school of horror” (72). The horrific features of
the latter school, Nünning analyses, include “gruesome details and excessive sexual fantasies. […] In addition,
the supernatural events are not agents of justice and benevolence any more. Rather, they are inexplicable –
and inexplicably remote as well as amoral. From now on, it is not possible to rationalise those events” (72).
The change from terror to horror was furthermore marked by the increasing complexity of the generic
characters. Instead of stereotypical good and evil, heroes and villains, “we get more insight into their
consciousness, and it turns out that they are more complex than the stereotypical presentations in the late
eighteenth century suggested” (72). It could be argued that this is another form of rejecting the rational.
Whereas before the reader could effortlessly distinguish between the villain and the hero, or victim, such
stories were replaced with ones where complex characters blur the line between each other, leaving the
reader without an easy answer. This complexity could reflect the fear of the unknown, which may very well
extend to the uncertainty of humanity’s actions. This uncertainty is particularly present in the later Victorian
Gothic novel, which often explores “the dynamic between repressive societies and repressed selves, and the
precarious boundary between civilization and barbarism” (Davison, 221).
Thus the feeling of anxiety is perhaps best exemplified in some of the novels from the Victorian era.
Peter J. Kitson notes in his 2002 article “The Victorian Gothic” how The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
can be read, for example, either as an expression of the desires repressed in the social environment of the
time period or as fears towards the newly unveiled theory of evolution and humanity’s possible regression
back to ape-like creatures (Kitson, 168). Scientific progress and new findings of the era also contributed to the
way in which Gothic tales transformed. Kelly Hurley notes in “Science and the Gothic” (2012) how “the
Victorian Gothic was opportunistic in its relation to science, borrowing from any number of scientific
discourses, psychology included, in order to further its project of the making-strange of human identity”
(Hurley, 179). The monsters of past Gothic tales were transformed into rejects or mistakes of science while still
retaining the sense of mystery and defying explanation, a counterattack towards the rational objectivity of
scientific progress. Through their inexplicable nature, these forces are in opposition to the familiar reality of
civilisation, which is now encroached upon by the mysterious other. This is particularly brought to the
forefront by the so called Imperial Gothic, which “exhibits anxieties about racial and social degeneration, the
threat of going native, and the invasion of Britain by demonic colonial forces” (Davison, 222). The effectiveness
of the Gothic in discussing these anxieties could be argued to be a result of its generic features and their
allegorical nature, which, returning to The Castle of Otranto, “successfully exposes deep-seated human issues
 13

and emotions” (66). This, in turn could be argued to be the generic frame of Gothic literature, where the
reader may expect to be terrified or, indeed, horrified by the mysterious and the unknown, and their many
forms, while understanding the allegorical elements as a mirror for and a result of the complex and indefinite
human experience, as posited by the proponents of the Romantic movement.
From the outset, The Hound of the Baskervilles could be viewed as a conflict between the scientific,
rational detective and the mysterious, supernatural other. Holmes champions the enlightened society in its
battle against the invading fear of the unknown represented by the looming evil of the hellhound. His task is to
pull aside the veil of mysticism and reveal the culprit as the detective would in any good detective story,
dismissing the supernatural fears of Doctor Mortimer as nothing more than irrational fantasy. However,
Holmes’ absence as the voice of reason and logic leave Watson to fill the role, in addition bearing witness to
the fantastical, menacing atmosphere of the moor, where the otherworldly past of the Baskerville legend stirs
and threatens the modern aspirations of the new Baskerville heir. It is only after Holmes’ return that the
detective story can properly continue with the expeditious reveal of the smoke and mirrors involved in the
hound’s creation. Yet even as the hound lies dead, its revealed mortal nature belies the evil of the culprit
behind the crime.

2.3. Detective Fiction

The second genre under examination for this study is detective fiction, with the main aim of analysing how the
genre and its features might be affected by its mixture with the Gothic. As such, it is important to examine the
genre conventions of this particular genre as well. In Crime Fiction: From Poe to the Present (2013), Martin
Priestman remarks how antecedents for detective fiction can be found in literature before the genre’s
inception. For example, Priestman notes how Oedipus “conducts a series of interrogations in his official kingly
role to unmask the murderer of his predecessor King Laius” (Priestman, 6). The evidence eventually reveals the
killer, and the story has been immortalized to such an effect that the mystery can be solved from reading the
title alone. This, Priestman reasons, is what separates the story of Oedipus from detective fiction: its
“repeatability” (7), that is, the manner in which the story itself is able to captivate its audience, even as said
audience is well acquainted with the legend and, therefore, the reveal. With detective fiction and the
‘whodunit’ story, on the other hand, revealing the outcome is a “cardinal sin” (7). This arguably illustrates the
focus of detective fiction to be in the outcome of the presented mystery and the way in which the detective
explains his or her deductions. The “short story which started it all” (Priestman, 8), Edgar Allan Poe’s “The
Murders in the Rue Morgue” from 1841 introduces the reader to some of the central elements in later
detective fiction: an analytical hero-detective capable of extraordinarily feats of deduction, which are based on
the clues found at the scene of the crime and presented to the clueless narrator who marvels at the solved
 14

problem. Randy L. Abbott remarks in “Roots of Mystery and Detective Fiction” (2008) how Poe’s amateur
detective, Chevalier Auguste Dupin,
relates his theories to the story’s unnamed narrator, who marvels at Dupin’s brilliance. In this
story, then, can be seen the prototypes for future pairings of detectives and companions, of
which the most famous include Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, Agatha
Christie’s Hercule Poirot and Captain Arthur Hastings, and Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe and Archie
Goodwin. (Abbott, 1891)
Later short stories by Poe would also introduce the “villain-genius” (Priestman, 9) to match the hero-detective.
However, it is the focus on solving the mystery that would distinguish the detective story. As Priestman points
out:
By a founding deception, ‘Rue Morgue’ begins not just like but as a drily discursive article making
the single point that analysis is superior to ingenuity: formally, the rest of the story is provided
purely as evidence of this ‘scientific’ claim, and would lose its purpose if our attention were ever
to waver from that fact. (10)
Indeed, as Abbott points out, “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” could not only be considered the first
detective story but the genre’s first locked-room mystery (Abbott, 1891). Mystery, which “goes from being
only one of the elements in a story to being the central purpose of a story”, exemplified in the locked-room
mystery and how “a profound puzzle takes center stage in Poe’s story, and the story is the mystery” (1891).
Poe’s short story also introduced the generic structure of the detective novel: “The telling of the story, the
introduction of the detective, the interviewing of witnesses, the apparent contradictions and seemingly
insurmountable obstacles, and finally solving the case through what Poe termed ratiocination, the triumph of
reason” (1891; emphasis added). The detective, it could be argued, is thus a character driven by logic and his
or her analytical powers, with the core of the story being in the way in which the detective pieces together the
different clues before arriving at a solution to a problem introduced at the beginning of the story. Haia
Shpayer-Makov notes in The Ascent of the Detective: Police Sleuths in Victorian and Edwardian England (2011)
how the Victorian reading public “showed a preference for texts that claimed historical authenticity” (Shpayer-
Makov, 234), which in turn resulted in writers of detective fiction to weave “dramatic tales of crime and
detection” while simultaneously insisting on “accuracy of detail” of crime fighting, “writers with no experience
in detection increasingly used their imagination, and the snippets of facts about detection that they had on
hand, to produce the kind of fiction favoured by the reading public” (234).
This would eventually lead to characters such as William Russell’s hero-detective Waters, who “works
alone, managing the investigation, questioning witnesses, examining the scene of crime, and searching for
evidence, relying essentially on his intuition and personal ability. […] His memory is excellent, which aids in
identifying suspects” (235). The detective would appear to possess several abilities and skills, all of which
nevertheless pertain to the art of detection. He is also a staunch defender of the justice system, with each
 15

ending confirming “the victory of the criminal justice system: the criminal is always caught” (235). Following
this tradition of police detectives in the mid-nineteenth century, as Shpayer-Makov points out, Doyle’s hero-
detective was placed “at the centre of several events requiring investigation” (238), which could be argued to
further solidify the detective’s purpose as an investigator solving a problem or, indeed, a mystery, with the
final reveal acting as both the climax and expected conclusion of the story.
The boundaries of a detective story revolving around the final reveal can be argued to extend to the
reader as well. Peter Messent comments in The Crime Fiction Handbook (2013) how, as readers, “we too take
part in a game with certain fixed rules and procedures” (Messent, 29). What can be expected of a detective
story, its generic frame, is, therefore, within set limits that can be defined. This viewpoint has resulted in the
creation of various formalized rules, for example, that “the culprit must be determined by logical deductions—
not by accident or coincidence or unmotivated confession” (30) or “a detective novel should contain no long
descriptive passages, no literary dallying with side-issues, no subtly worked-out character analyses, no
‘atmospheric’ preoccupations. Such matters have no vital place in a record of crime and deduction” (30;
emphasis added). The reason for the irrelevance of these aspects is “the main purpose, which is to state a
problem, analyse it, and bring it to a successful conclusion” (30). This links the detective story’s conventions
with its characteristic generic structure, where the actions of the aforementioned presenting a problem,
analysing it, and eventually solving the problem are central to the genre. Furthermore, through this action,
detective fiction is marked with a generic task. Fowler notes how “many kinds (and by no means all of them
narrative ones) entail characteristic tasks. This kind will entice the reader into labyrinths of moral analysis; that
kind will require exquisite discrimination between events which actually ‘occurred’ in the author’s fiction and
those that are merely fictions of a narrator” (Fowler, 72). Kinds, or genres, thus may assign the reader a task a
part of their features. The detective story, however, as Frank Kermode argues in “Local and Provincial
Restrictions” (1972),
is therefore a good example of the overdevelopment of one element of narrative at the expense
of others: it is possible to tell a story in such a way that the principal object of the reader is to
discover, by an interpretation of clues, the answer to a problem posed at the outset. All other
considerations may be subordinated to this interpretative, or as I shall call it, hermeneutic activity.
(Kermode, 56)
According to Kermode’s argument this feature of detective stories causes issues with their analysis, for
“there is not much detailed study of such books, partly because they are by some thought unworthy of it, but
also because there is a tabu on telling what happens in the end. […] The tabu sacralises closure; it suggests that
to give away the solution that comes at the end is to give away all, so intense is the hermeneutic specialisation”
(56; emphasis added). It could thus be argued that the generic task assigned by detective fiction is for the
reader to become the detective. As previously noted, the story itself becomes the mystery, and this mystery is
for the reader to solve. Much akin to the fictional detective within the story, the reader should also gather,
 16

analyse and reconstruct the clues provided by the narrative in order successfully conclude the task, and thus
the story. By this argument, detective stories exist solely as problems to be solved, the solution also marking
the end of the story, after which the story does not need to be touched upon again, for it has already been
used. Additionally, “information may or may not be irrelevant to the hermeneutic enterprise on which the
reader is embarked; also it can conceal clues or introduce false ones. It will certainly, in so far as it takes his
attention, distract the reader from his hermeneutic task” (57). The long descriptive passages, dallying with side
issues and atmospheric preoccupations previously listed by Messent could thus be considered to be a
hindrance towards completing the reader’s generic task. Detective fiction could be argued to be unique in its
generic frame of assigning the reader the task of solving the mystery when compared to other kinds of novel,
“for although all have hermeneutic content, only the detective story makes it pre-eminent” (Kermode, 57).
Although the rules of detective fiction are neither infallible nor followed by all writers, if anything they could
be viewed to be prime material for subverting generic features and frames, they can be argued to convey a
view of creating a defined, logical form reminiscent of the logic and reason of the detective story itself in an
attempt to remove matters irrelevant to the pure, scientific form of deduction.
 17

3. Analysis

In this section of the study, The Hound of the Baskervilles will be examined through the proposed framework
of interpretation in order to analyse how the Gothic genre features of the novel interact with the generic
frame of conventional detective fiction. This will be accomplished by, as previously mentioned, constructing
the text by locating its generic markers. After these markers have been located, the text can be interpreted
through its generic features. Particular interest will be directed at the viewpoints of Watson and Holmes, and
how these viewpoints contribute to the expressions of fantastical mystery and scientific reason, respectively,
and how this affects the genre mixture of the novel. This effect plays a crucial part in finally evaluating the
novel in its use of generic features and conventions.
The analysis is divided into four sections. First, a brief summary of the Hound legend found within the
narrative is introduced, as the legend could be argued to act as a Gothic genre frame for the rest of the story.
Next, utilizing the proposed framework, the Gothic genre features will be examined, with particular focus on
Watson’s narrative during his time separated from Holmes. The third section is then committed to Holmes’
involvement in the novel and the detective fiction genre markers found in the narrative. Considering the scope
and extent of this study, the interpretation of generic features will be discussed as they are noted. Finally, the
novel will be evaluated in the fourth section, with special focus on how the different genre features were
utilized in the novel based on the interpretation of different generic markers. This will conclude the analysis
section with a final note on the overall genre hybrid and its mixture of Gothic and detective fiction genre
features and conventions.

3.1. The Hound Legend

At the beginning of the novel, Doctor Mortimer is adamant in recounting the Baskerville legend to Holmes and
Watson, due to the legend being “intimately connected” (Doyle, 400) with the present matter. The story as
such could be considered a Gothic tale as it displays many of the genre’s features and conventions. The legend
tells of the Baskerville ancestor, Hugo, a “most wild, profane, and godless man” (402). In accordance with the
Gothic tradition, the monstrous Hugo becomes infatuated with a young maiden, another common character in
Gothic fiction. After his advances are rejected by the maiden, Hugo decides to kidnap and bring her to the
Baskerville Hall, where she is quickly locked up in one of the upper chambers while Hugo and his companions
began their customary “carouse” (402), during which Hugo’s monstrosity is further accentuated.
The maiden, however, is not as helpless as she may first appear. During the men’s carouse, she climbs
down the ivy growing against the Hall’s wall and escapes to the moor. Upon discovering that his captive has
fled, Hugo’s demeanour takes a sudden change:
 18

Then, as it would seem, he became as one that hath a devil, for rushing down the stairs into the
dining-hall, he sprang upon the great table, flagons and trenchers flying before him, and he cried
aloud before all the company that he would that very night render his body and soul to the
Powers of Evil if he might but overtake the wench. (402)
He soon rides after her with a pack of hounds in tow. His companions, realizing what Hugo might do in his rage,
give chase to reach the man and his target. On the moonlit moor the men come across a shepherd who,
“crazed with fear” (403), reports how he saw the fleeing maiden, the dogs on her trail, Hugo himself on his
horse, and “mute behind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels” (403). The men
curse the crazed shepherd but are soon struck with fear themselves, as they come across Hugo’s horse
returning without its rider and the hunting dogs whimpering in a cluster. Three of the men continue into the
ravine the dogs are pointing at and there, amid the stones “set by certain forgotten peoples in the days of old”
(403-404), they find the maiden, “dead of fear and of fatigue” (404). But it is not the sight of the dead woman,
or the body of Hugo near her, that scares the men:
Standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast,
shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as
they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing
eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still
screaming, across the moor. (404)
As previously mentioned, this legend contains many of the elements commonly found in Gothic fiction,
such as the theme of a beautiful, fair maiden imprisoned by a monstrous person, or an actual monster, living
in the edge of society. The Hall occupies the castle motif and the moor, with its ruins, offers a view to the dark
and mysterious past still not illuminated by modern society and reason, a place where the eponymous
hellhound of the novel could very well exist. It should be noted how the hound itself could be argued to
embody supernatural phenomena both from the school of terror and the school of horror. The hound chasing
after Hugo could be viewed as representing the Baskerville’s desire in trying to catch the fleeing maiden; a
moral failing which eventually results in his end. Yet, the horror of the hound strikes the maiden dead as well.
It is amoral towards its victims, an unexplained horror evading rationalization. This could be argued to set the
background for the novel as a story where the Gothic legend is woven into the detective narrative. Not only
does the legend create a foreboding atmosphere for Watson’s later adventures in Devonshire by establishing a
Gothic genre frame, but it also provides an early contrast to Holmes’ view on the subject matter, after all, he
simply yawns and dismisses this “singular narrative” as interesting only “to a collector of fairy-tales” (406)
upon being enquired about his interest by Doctor Mortimer. Although Holmes does not dismiss the idea of the
hound existing as far as it pertains to the case (428), the tale itself would appear irrelevant to his rational
detective mind, particularly since Doctor Mortimer is yet to present a problem, the mystery and its
accompanying hermeneutic task, instead taking his time, and wasting Holmes’, in recounting a ‘fairy-tale’. As
 19

previously mentioned, however, it could be argued that the legend establishes a Gothic genre frame in the
mind of the reader – and Watson, who eventually has to view the moors of Devonshire through this frame.

3.2. Watson’s Descriptions and His Gothic Narrative

In this section, the previously established interpretive model will be utilized to identify and interpret the
Gothic genre markers found within Watson’s narrative, following the initial argument presented at the
beginning of this study. Meeting with Holmes and Doctor Watson, Doctor Mortimer recounts the previously
summarised legend of an enormous hellhound that has supposedly plagued the Baskerville family for
generations. Holmes shows disinterest towards the legend, noting how it might be interesting to a “collector
of fairy-tales” (Doyle 406). His interest is piqued, however, after Doctor Mortimer tells how Sir Charles
Baskerville, the previous master of the Hall, had been found dead, lying on an alley leading to the Hall.
“There was certainly no physical injury of any kind. But one false statement was made by
Barrymore at the inquest. He said that there were no traces upon the ground around the body.
He did not observe any. But I did–some little distance off, but fresh and clear”
“Footprints?”
“Footprints.”
“A man’s or a woman’s?”
Dr. Mortimer looked strangely at us for an instant, and his voice sank almost to a whisper as he
answered:
“Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!” (413-414)
When Doctor Mortimer reveals finding the “footprints of a gigantic hound” near the late Sir Charles
Baskerville (414), Watson confesses to feeling a shudder pass through him (415). After Holmes shows him the
Dartmoor map later in the evening and points out the dwellings scattered around the moor, Watson notes
how it must be “a wild place” (427), at least in contrast to London. Moreover, prior to his death, Sir Charles
Baskerville had sought to modernise the Hall, with his brief tenure being a source of “common talk how large
were those schemes of reconstruction and improvement” (407). This links directly to the previously
highlighted Victorian idea of Progress and modernisation, the desire to reject the past and lay it to rest. And
yet, as noted by Killeen, the Gothic is intricately involved with the past returning and displacing the
contemporary. That Sir Charles should meet his end being chased by the family’s ancestral legend, reminiscent
of the death of his ancestor Hugo, could be argued to be one of the methods in which Gothic genre features
settle deeper into the novel from the beginning, as opposed to the frame establishing legend by itself. Doctor
Mortimer’s notion of how “every Baskerville who goes there meets with an evil fate” (420) would appear to
warn against return to Baskerville Hall, and arguably, the past. Holmes, on the other hand, shows little
consideration for Gothic conventions, pointing out how “surely, if your supernatural theory be correct, it could
 20

work the young man evil in London as easily as in Devonshire. A devil with merely local powers like a parish
vestry would be too inconceivable a thing” (420; emphasis added), whereas such supernatural events
occurring in a place removed from everyday reality is at the centre of Gothic tradition, as previously pointed
out by Nünning.
Holmes’ remark that the moor is a worthy setting “if the devil did desire to have a hand in the affairs of
men” (427) causes Watson, in turn, to surmise that his friend is inclining towards the supernatural explanation
(427), further exemplifying the moor as a Gothic mise-en-scène, although Holmes swiftly steers the topic to
the problem of whether any actual crime has been committed. As Taylor-Ide points out, his dismissal is not
helped with the way Holmes’ method of ruminating on the problem offered to him in The Hound of the
Baskervilles could be viewed as a “ritual transformation—passed into a dark, liminal world outside the societal
structure, and has returned cloaked in that darkness, which is manifested in the close, smoky atmosphere of
the room” (Taylor-Ide, 59), referring to the scene in the novel where Watson returns from his club only to find
Holmes deep in thought in his seat. Upon Watson presuming Holmes has stayed inside all day, Holmes corrects
him:
“[…] Where do you think I have been?”
“A fixture also.”
“On the contrary, I have been to Devonshire.”
“In spirit?”
“Exactly. My body has remained in this arm-chair; and has, I regret to observe, consumed in my
absence two large pots of coffee and an incredible amount of tobacco. After you left I sent down
to Stamford’s for the Ordnance map of this portion of the moor, and my spirit has hovered over it
all day. I flatter myself that I could find my way about.” (Doyle, 423-424; emphasis added.)
Taylor-Ide compares Holmes’ spirit, his mind’s “incredible reasoning faculty” (Taylor-Ide, 60), examining the
map to a shamanistic trance, during which the detective gathers more information but which is not entirely
within the realm of reason. Holmes himself using terminology alluding to mysticism in describing his afternoon
activities casts doubt on him being the presumed being of pure scientific logic and reason, disinterested in
anything not pertaining to the problem at hand.
Watson first takes notice of the change in scenery as he travels to Devonshire with Sir Henry Baskerville
and Doctor Mortimer: “In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to
granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke
of a richer, if a damper, climate” (462), a climate different from that of London. This scene, however, is in
contrast with the moor proper: “Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in
the distance a grey, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some
fantastic landscape in a dream” (464; emphasis added), signifying how the moor is exceptional even among
 21

the scenery removed from urban society, a place where reason does not necessarily rule. This description of
contrast to London continues as the three men move to a carriage:
We curved upwards through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side,
heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart’s-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble
gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge,
and skirted a noisy stream, which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the grey
boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. (464-
465; emphasis added)
It is clear that this environment is removed from the modern London. Rather, it is an expression of the past as
shown in the passage of time both in the worn out roads and the freely growing foliage, with only an
occasional settlement, further emphasising how Watson is entering an unfamiliar, past world, detached and
removed from civilized London, while also signalling the conventional feature of the past to “burst through
into the present, displacing the contemporary”, as Killeen characterized it (28). Furthermore, in contrast to this
countryside “there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the
jagged and sinister hills” (Doyle, 464), which further marks the moor as a separate entity removed from the
surrounding world. In travelling to Devonshire, it could be argued that Watson has also travelled to a Gothic
reality, removed from the reality he normally inhabits but enabling him to experience events that, in
accordance to Gothic genre features, cannot be rationalised. The displacement in The Hound of the
Baskervilles occurs through travel to the Gothic mise-en-scène.
The atmosphere of this sinister, primeval landscape is further strengthened by the knowledge of the
convict Selden, who has escaped from the Princetown prison and is now “lurking” in the moor, “hiding in a
burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed
but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkening sky”
(465-466). Selden has been imprisoned for murder and his actions are described as peculiarly ferocious and
wantonly brutal in manner (465). His conduct had been “so atrocious” (465) that there were questions in
regard to his sanity. Selden’s presence and its effect on Watson and his companions could thus be viewed as
the civilised modern man arriving not only to a wild environment but having to face the seemingly animalistic
impulses of humanity, which usually remain repressed in more social environments, a notion reminiscent of
the anxieties often expressed in the Victorian Gothic novels mentioned in the theoretical section. Nils Clausson
points out that the descriptions of Selden’s crime, and later Stapleton’s actions, are “in excess of the
requirements of the detective story plot, but such ‘ferocity’ and ‘wanton brutality’ are the very stuff of fin-de-
siècle Gothic” (Clausson, 70-71). Clausson compares these descriptions to the way that Mr Hyde is described in
Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and indeed, to the hound of the
Baskerville legend (74). These descriptions of individual savagery could be argued to further link the novel with
Victorian era anxiety of societal regression and its motif in Gothic literature, particularly the precarious line
 22

that must be balanced in order not to fall into primal savagery, a line that wears thinner the farther from
perceived civilization one is.
The description of Baskerville Hall itself would not be out of place in a Gothic novel. Its gates are “a
maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens”, its
lodge a “ruin of black granite”, avenues lined by trees casting a “sombre tunnel” over the frontal avenue
(Doyle, 466). The Hall itself is “draped with ivy […] From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient,
crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes” (467). Conspicuously, the windows are mullioned, a feature
found “especially in Gothic architecture” as noted in the annotations (467). Inside, “huge balks of age-
blackened oak” dominate the ceiling, the fireplace is great and old-fashioned, windows are stained glass, and
oak panelling is prevalent (468). The dining room is “a place of shadow and gloom” (470) in the dim light of a
single lamp, particularly in contrast to the more modern bedrooms. The building is not without mysteries
either, as on the first night Watson, having been kept awake by the impression the locale has left him, hears
the sobbing of a woman somewhere in the house, and is left waiting “every nerve on the alert” (471) for other
sounds, yet he can only hear the clock counting the hours. It could be argued that Watson’s description of the
Hall marks him staying in a locale bearing a close resemblance to the castles of Gothic genre features and,
much like the damsels in distress imprisoned within these castles must find their way in the dark hallways, so
too must Watson find his way in this unfamiliar and bewildering location. The introduction of the Grimpen
Mire further amplifies this resemblance, for “a false step yonder means death to man or beast” (478) as they
sink into the bog. Navigating the labyrinthine Mire requires memorizing complex landmarks, making the bog
otherwise impenetrable (480).
Watson’s characterization of the locations within the novel appears to be a recurring theme,
contributing in no small part to the Gothic genre markers. Not all these markers, however, originate from
external sources. In the morning, sunlight causes the gloomy dining room to glow like bronze, to which Sir
Henry remarks how “it is ourselves and not the house to that we have to blame! […] We were tired with our
journey and chilled by our drive, so we took a grey view of the place” (472). Far away from civilized society, the
dark past creeps up on the men, affecting their view of their environment. After a pleasant walk along the
edge of the moor, he arrives at a “small grey hamlet” (473) to investigate a telegram. The “grey, lonely road”
(474) he follows as he attempts to piece together the few clues he has collected is not necessarily a mere
metaphor for his current predicament. Upon being invited to Merripit House by the Stapletons, Watson notes
how “an orchard surrounded it, but the trees, as is usual upon the moor, were stunted and nipped, and the
effect of the place was mean and melancholy” (484-485), a passage which can be argued to be reminiscent of
Edgar Allan Poe’s 1839 short story “The Fall of the House of Usher”, where the dreary environment afflicts
those who view it with similar gloom and melancholy. Similarly to the narrator in “The Fall of the House of
Usher”, the bleak and melancholy appearance of the place inflicts on Watson a sense of inconsistency, that
something is wrong with, or, at the house, but he is unable to place it while engulfed by the Gothic locale. This
 23

sensation is further accentuated by the outburst of Miss Stapleton who, mistaking Watson for Sir Henry, warns
him: “Go back to London! Start tonight! Get away from this place at all costs! Hush, my brother is coming! Not
a word of what I have said” (Doyle, 482). Later learning of her mistake, Miss Stapleton hastily beseechs
Watson to forget what she has said, further contributing to his sentiment of a “soul full of vague fears” (488).
The description of Merripit House could be viewed as clear instance of generic resemblance, where, as
previously examined, influence and imitation place a work within a generic tradition shared with previous
works in the genre. The description of the House could also be argued to be a part of Gothic intertextuality,
linking The Hound of the Baskervilles with “The Fall of the House of Usher” in what Fowler calls “generic
allusion”, which is a “reference to previous writers or representatives of the genre” (Fowler, 88). This allusion
allows a reader familiar with Poe’s short story to notice these markers and potentially adjust his or her
expectations as to the nature of the House and its inhabitants. Conversely, a reader unfamiliar with this
tradition might ignore these markers, thus causing him or her to miss their significance, much akin to Watson
until receives additional context from Holmes.
The sight of the Stapletons’ house further strengthens the distinct gloomy atmosphere everything
around the moor seems to gain in Watson’s eyes. In one of his letters to Holmes, Watson writes how “the
longer one stays here the more does the spirit of the moor sink into one’s soul, its vastness, and also its grim
charm. When you are once upon its bosom you have left all traces of modern England behind you […]” (Doyle,
489). Indeed, the presence of a prehistoric human “fitting a flint-tipped arrow on to the string of his bow”
would feel more natural than that of a modern Englishman (490), further emphasizing how Watson has been
transported to a place not only removed by distance, but arguably also by time. It is important to observe the
extent to which Watson appears to understand his friend’s thought process and character, noting how “all this
[…] will probably be very uninteresting to your severely practical mind” (490), Holmes, and the reader’s, mind
being focused on solving the task presented back at Baker Street. However, despite this, Watson continues to
describe the surrounding area with certain artistic licence as it were, commenting on how the stones found on
the moor look “like the huge, corroding fangs of some monstrous beast” (492), inserting superfluous
information that Holmes has no need of, or interest in, and which conflicts with the ‘rules’ and the generic
frame of detective fiction. Clausson argues that the purpose of Watson’s narrative is to share his feelings of
fear and uncertainty with the reader (Clausson, 69). Watson’s narrative, Clausson continues, with its “complex
structure of embedded narratives”, is “much closer to other fin-de-siècle Gothic tales and romances than it is
to the early Holmes stories” (69). Watson’s descriptions and the narrative he weaves together are thus central
in creating the Gothic atmosphere, and thus the features, of the novel, which is juxtaposed with Holmes’
detective narrative. Watson does not wish to trouble Holmes with his theories since he has been asked to
furnish the detective “only with facts” (Doyle, 497), the nature of which may be questioned due to the
aforementioned dramatization. However, Watson does hold his own theories and deductions, attempting to
fill the role of the detective during Holmes’ absence. This gives Watson a dual nature, both as the primary
 24

weaver of the Gothic atmosphere, but also as the detective required by the generic frame. This could be
argued to complement Holmes’ role as the hero-detective who nevertheless slips into his role as a mediator to
the Gothic.
Although Watson’s descriptions of the areas surrounding the moor evoke a mysterious, threatening
atmosphere, he does not merely convey these impressions to Holmes but also follows some of his own
investigations, such as the reasons behind Stapleton’s aversions to Sir Henry courting his sister or the way the
butler Barrymore sneaks around the Hall at night. These passages diverge from Watson’s descriptive
expressions as he and Sir Henry seek to alleviate the pervading sense of boredom the two experience living on
the countryside. Indeed, upon asking for Sir Henry’s opinion in as to Barrymore’s behaviour, the baronet
“rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it was evident that he hailed the adventure as a relief to his somewhat
quiet life upon the moor” (499-500), as the two plan to shadow Barrymore and discover the reason for his
strange nightly activities, bringing food to the convict Selden on behalf of the latter’s sister, Mrs Barrymore
(512). It is this reasoning and discovery of facts that diminishes the dark atmosphere created by the dramatic
descriptions of the land around the Baskerville Hall. It could be argued that Watson and Sir Henry’s detective
work abates the supernatural mysteries surrounding Dartmoor, and thus changes the focus of the novel back
to the detective story as the two change genre frames from Gothic to detective fiction, taking part in the
hermeneutic task of solving the mystery. The mysterious unknown and the threat of the spectral hellhound
are pushed aside for a moment, as the good doctor and the baronet focus on more tangible concepts capable
of being rationalized, namely the signals Barrymore sends at night to the convict Selden. After the two
discover Barrymore’s acts, they decide to capture the escaped prisoner in the middle of the night, the act of
catching the culprit, or at least a culprit, being one of the core objectives of a detective story. Once upon the
moor, Sir Henry poses a simple question and receives an unexpected answer:
“I say, Watson,” said the baronet, “what would Holmes say to this? How about that hour of
darkness in which the power of evil is exalted?”
As if in answer to his words there rose suddenly out of the vast gloom of the moor that strange
cry which I had already heard upon the borders of the great Grimpen Mire. It came with the wind
through the silence of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then the sad moan in
which it died away. Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident, wild, and
menacing. (513-514)
Upon being pressed on the issue by Sir Henry, Watson is forced to admit what the people of the area call this
sound: “They say it is the cry of the Hound of the Baskervilles” (514). The detective story is once more brushed
aside as Watson and Sir Henry are faced with the supernatural horror of the Gothic, a horror that, at least
momentarily, would appear to evade reason.
As previously mentioned, Watson’s narrative establishes the moor as a setting for his feelings of unease
and fear of the unknown. Holmes’ absence accentuates these feelings since Watson, presumably, does not
 25

possess Holmes’ ability to rationalize the events as something mundane and not supernatural. In this way,
Watson is more susceptible to the Gothic horror and its inexplicable nature, which he is unable to process,
having been removed from his usual environment and reality. Upon discovering that there is another man
besides the convict Selden hiding on the moor, Watson resolves to find the mysterious intruder. “Barrymore’s
only indication had been that the stranger lived in one of these abandoned huts, and many hundreds of them
are scattered throughout the length and breadth of the moor” (539). The motif of the Gothic castle has
extended from the Baskerville Hall to the moor, and Watson must now navigate the barren landscape in his
search for answers. Yet fortune smiles upon him, and he is able to follow a messenger boy to the stone huts:
The barren scene, the sense of loneliness, and the mystery and urgency of my task all struck a chill
into my heart. The boy was nowhere to be seen. But down beneath me, in a cleft of the hills,
there was a circle of the old stone huts, and in the middle of them there was one which retained
sufficient roof to act as a screen against the weather. (545-546)
A fortuitous coincidence allows Watson to find what he seeks, not all that dissimilar to the Gothic
supernatural events that, on occasion, caused benevolent results in the school of terror. A correspondence
found inside the hut, however, reveals that Watson is not as fortunate as he may have believed.
Possibly I had taken no step since I had been upon the moor which had not been observed and
repeated. Always there was this feeling of an unseen force, a fine net drawn round us with infinite
skill and delicacy, holding us so lightly that is was only at some supreme moment that one realized
that one was indeed entangled in its meshes. (546-547)
Through his dramatic narration, Watson turns a simple piece of paper, “Dr. Watson has gone to Coombe
Tracey” (546) into an intangible, ever-present force grasping around him and Sir Henry. Waiting inside the hut,
Watson “quivered at the vagueness and the terror of that interview which every instant was bringing nearer”
(548) as the hut’s inhabitant closed nearer. Watson’s conjured terror is proven to originate entirely from
within, as the arriving Holmes warmly greets him and urges him to step outside to the lovely evening (548).
The arrival of Holmes signals an end to Watson’s terror as a “crushing weight of responsibility” (550) is lifted
from him. Watson even remarks how glad he is for Holmes to have arrived, “for indeed the responsibility and
the mystery were both becoming too much” (553), although Watson and Holmes’ approach to the mystery
may differ. It could be argued that Watson’s mystery is focused on the Gothic tale whereas Holmes’ is
orientated towards the detective problem. On the other hand, Watson could be read as relieved of being able
to pass the hermeneutic task to the more capable hands of Holmes, having served his tenure as the detective
and now returning to his role as chronicler.
However, Holmes’ position as an embodiment of reason has been called to question especially in
regards to The Hound of the Baskervilles, perhaps primarily due to the narrative split between Holmes and
Watson. Holmes makes a remark to this split, noting how his presence at the moor was best kept hidden, lest
his “point of view would have been the same” as Watson’s (553). In doing so he leaves a certain ambiguity as
 26

to whether he refers to events he could have witnessed at and around the Hall or the Gothic atmosphere
Watson experienced. This recalls Taylor-Ide’s idea of Holmes’ liminality: it could be argued that Holmes is
simultaneously an outside observer to the removed Gothic reality Watson is placed in while also becoming one
with it, thus being unaffected by its qualities on the moor. Holmes’ view on the case will be examined in the
next section, along with the criticisms to his claim of scientific methods of deduction.

3.3. Holmes’ Deductions and His Detective Story

Fowler notes how “another topic of the novel exordium is the establishment of the protagonist’s identity. […]
By a generally accepted convention (and one that attracts little notice), the protagonist’s name is given in full
on the first occasion of use” (Fowler, 104). Additionally, Fowler points out that “the generic markers that
cluster at the beginning of a work have a strategic role in guiding the reader. They help to establish, as soon as
possible, an appropriate mental ‘set’ that allows the work’s generic codes to be read” (88), that is, these
markers establish the generic frame of a literary text and thus the reader’s expectations. Among these
indicators are the title of the work and opening topics (88), and the aforementioned introduction of the
protagonist is also one of these topics.
This is also the case in Doyle’s narrative. The title for The Hound of the Baskervilles might bring to mind
the various legends of black dogs found on the British Isles, marking the novel as perhaps another legend, or a
story in the fashion of one. Indeed, James and John M. Kissane remark in “Sherlock Holmes and The Ritual of
Reason” (1963) how “developing his tale out of the ‘west country legend’” (354) played its part in
differentiating the novel from Doyle’s other long Holmes stories. Moving on from the tile, the first chapter of
the novel, however, is straightforwardly titled “Mr. Sherlock Holmes”, followed by the opening line: “Mr.
Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when
he stayed up all night, was seated at the breakfast-table” (Doyle, 387). On this occasion, it could be argued
that the generic allusion is self-referential. A Study in Scarlet was published in 1887, The Sign of Four in 1890
and the first Holmes short story, “A Scandal in Bohemia” in 1891. For that matter, Holmes had already,
presumably, died in 1893 in “The Final Problem”. The opening of the novel could, as such, be argued to
establish a clear generic frame of a detective story with the protagonist’s name alone. Moreover, Holmes and
Watson’s first interaction in The Hound of the Baskervilles involves deducing the identity of a visitor based on
the walking stick he has left behind the previous night (387-392), during which Holmes once again
demonstrates his abilities of arriving at the probable, and invariably correct, conclusion by analysing the clues
present before him. From the beginning, Holmes is in the process of the hermeneutic task. It should be noted,
however, that in Watson’s Medical Directory, which he inspects to ascertain the visitor’s identity, Doctor
Mortimer is noted as having written such essays as “Is Disease a Reversion?” “Some Freaks of Atavism”, and
“Do We Progress?” (392), all curiously alluding to Gothic genre features, particularly to the anxiety towards
 27

degeneration of humanity, common in Victorian Gothic literature as noted by Kitson. Perhaps Doctor
Mortimer was subconsciously drawn to work at a location better corresponding with his interests rather than
staying at Charing Cross Hospital (390-391) in the more modern London.
After hearing Doctor Mortimer’s account of Sir Charles Baskerville’s death, in contrast to Watson’s
sudden feeling of unease, Holmes is keenly interested upon hearing of the footprint found near Sir Charles’
body and begins questioning Doctor Mortimer on the facts in order to form a better image of the scene:
“You say it was large?”
“Enormous.”
“But it had not approached the body?”
“No.”
“What sort of night was it?”
“Damp and raw.”
“But not actually raining?”
“No.”
“What is the alley like?”
“There are two lines of old yew hedge, twelve feet high and impenetrable. The walk in the centre
is about eight feet across.”
“Is there anything between the hedges and the walk?”
“Yes, there is a strip of grass about six feet broad on either side.”
“I understand that the yew hedge is penetrated at one point by a gate?”
“Yes, the wicker-gate which leads on to the moor.”
“Is there any other opening?”
“None.”
“So that to reach the Yew Alley one either has to come down it from the house or else to enter it
by the moor-gate?”
“There is an exit through a summer-house at the far end.”
“Had Sir Charles reached this?”
“No; he lay about fifty yards from it.” (Doyle, 415-417)
Holmes continues this line of questioning, eventually exclaiming how he should have been called to the scene
immediately after Sir Charles’ death had taken place (418), so that he would have been able to examine the
ground and the possible marks on it, which are now lost amidst the prints made by the passers-by and
ultimately washed away by the English weather. What is noteworthy in Holmes’ line of questioning is the way
in which he extracts concrete answers with simple questions, following the previously mentioned disdain for
excess information. He is focused on the task at hand, that of finding the culprit behind Sir Charles’ death, and
 28

only interested in the facts surrounding the case, even if he has not been asked to solve this particular death.
Moreover, Holmes’ expediently establishes his view concerning the hound of the legend:
“I have hitherto confined my investigations to this world,” said he. “In a modest way I have
combatted evil, but to take on the Father of Evil himself would, perhaps, be too ambitious a task.
Yet you must admit that the footmark is material.”
“The original hound was material enough to tug a man’s throat out, and yet he was diabolical as
well.”
“I see that you have quite gone over to the supernaturalists. […]” (419)
Once Doctor Mortimer returns with Sir Henry Baskerville the next morning, the latter produces a letter
urging him: “as you value your life or your reason keep away from the moor” (432). Holmes quickly examines
the letter for all its worth and deduces that the message has been cut from the previous day’s The Times.
Additionally, Holmes notes how the message must have been cut with nail scissors and their short blades,
correcting Sir Henry’s assumptions in the process (435). He then proceeds to infer that the letter has been
created in a hurry, possibly under the fear of interruption (436) and that the “address has been written in an
hotel”, as shown by the poor quality of the ink and pen used (436). One of the recurring scenes in the Sherlock
Holmes stories is the manner in which Holmes explains his deductions step by step, often to the bewildered
Watson, who is left with no choice but to admit how simple the deduction is after hearing it. After all,
Watson’s “regular function” in these stories is to “register bafflement in the face of mystery and to express
wonder as Holmes solves it […] His bewilderment is intended not so much to reveal him as the butt as to add
luster to Holmes and his deductions” (Kissane and Kissane, 357-358; emphasis added), time after time
demonstrating how his abilities as a detective do not compare to Holmes, even if he tries to undertake the role.
Of course, as Abbott previously remarked, the detective having an audience to bewilder is a generic feature
tracing back to Poe and “The Murders in the Rue Morgue”.
In this regard, The Hound of the Baskervilles does not diverge from the other novels or short stories.
Indeed, the supernatural framework of the novel could be argued to make these scenes and their genre
markers all the more pronounced, as their precise and exact manner of presentation contrasts with the
mysterious unknown of the looming legend and its Gothic features. This contrast between different genre
markers could be argued to, in part, recreate the opposition towards the Enlightenment movement the
proponents of Romanticism championed utilizing the Gothic. Holmes represents the ideals of logic and reason,
whereas Watson and Doctor Mortimer appear bewildered by the possibility of a supernatural hound existing.
The combination of genres could thus be viewed not only as a generic mixture, but also as a discussion
between the involved genres, particularly when considering the way in which Holmes and Watson embody
mixed generic features.
As Sir Henry and Doctor Mortimer leave Baker Street, Holmes urges Watson to follow them. The two
walk at a distance from the baronet and the doctor until Holmes spots a man seemingly shadowing the pair
 29

(Doyle, 441). Unfortunately, the man notices he has been discovered and flees in his cab before Holmes can
take action. As Holmes later explains, this confirms his suspicion that someone has been closely following Sir
Henry ever since he arrived in London (443), as is evident in the previously examined letter being posted to the
right address. Dismayed that he has let this “shadow” get away, Holmes decides to “see what further cards we
have in our hands, and play them with decision” (444). He dispatches a messenger to look for a cutout The
Times around the origin point of the letter, with specific instructions as to how to accomplish this, before
sending a wire to find the cabman who drove the unidentified man’s cab. Holmes works methodically through
his options, although the case is already taking shape and becoming “coherent” (429) in his mind after hearing
Doctor Mortimer’s account of Sir Charles’ death, a coherence that he, according to the exact evidence
presented thus far, should not possess. Indeed, by his own admission, he had already “guessed at the criminal
before ever we went to the West country” (609). Clausson notes how Holmes’ solution to the case is both
effortless and unscientific (Clausson, 68), especially since Holmes had previously answered Doctor Mortimer’s
criticism of coming “into the region of guess-work” by rebuking: “‘Say, rather, into the region where we
balance probabilities and choose the most likely. It is the scientific use of the imagination’” (Doyle, 436;
emphasis added). This could be argued to cast doubt on all the exact scientific methods of reason he has
demonstrated thus far in effort to dispel the veil of the supernatural, while also undermining the rules of
detective fiction by foregoing logical deductions in the process of solving the problem.
Nevertheless, Holmes’ methodical approach continues when he inspects the hotel register at Sir Henry’s
hotel, enquiring about the identities of recent guests (447-449) and concluding that the culprit is “anxious
enough” (449) not to be seen by Sir Henry. Soon after this, the furious baronet exclaims that another one of
his boots has been stolen, to which Holmes thoughtfully notes the theft perhaps being “the queerest” thing
(451) of the recent events surrounding Sir Henry. Afterwards, Holmes asks Doctor Mortimer as to the
identities of the people who would benefit from Sir Charles and, by extension, Sir Henry’s death (452-453),
with a line of inheritance proceeding to distant cousins of the Baskervilles. Holmes makes inquiries towards
this line of investigation as all his other ‘cards’ bear poor results. The cabdriver, however, is located and when
Holmes questions him about his client and is surprised to learn that the man had given his name to the driver:
“Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he
mentioned?”
“His name,” said the cabman, “was Mr. Sherlock Holmes” (457).
This planned message from the “foeman” to Holmes makes him “worthy of our steel” (459), as he tells Watson.
This also could be seen to allude to the mastermind behind the plot, one whose intellect is a match for Holmes,
even as the mystery of the hound lingers in the background. Holmes’ opponent is thus not merely the
mysterious, unexplainable unknown but a similar mind of reason and logic capable of opposing the hero-
detective on equal ground with equal abilities, signalling the opponent as the villain-genius of detective fiction
convention.
 30

With the exception of the Baskerville legend as told by Doctor Mortimer, the beginning of the novel
centres on Holmes’ deductive abilities. In the starting pages, Watson attempts to apply Holmes’ methods on
Doctor Mortimer’s cane, forgotten during a prior visit to Baker Street, in order to discern the identity of their
visitor. Watson correctly identifies him as a medical man, although most of his other conclusions are
“erroneous” (389), after which Holmes proceeds to present more convincing inferences. This scene draws
attention towards the disparity of Watson and Holmes. Although Watson, as a former army surgeon, is a man
of science himself, his ability to rationally observe the world around him is inferior to that of Holmes. This
could be viewed as influencing the aforementioned way in which Watson dramatizes his observations,
particularly in his descriptions of Dartmoor. Holmes and his logic are curiously absent for most of the time
Watson spends at Baskerville Hall. This also causes a difference in narrative in the novel; the beginning is
characterised by substantial amounts of dialogue, whereas the middle portion of the novel consists primarily
of Watson’s narrative descriptions. In fact, Holmes becomes a part of Watson’s Gothic narrative after being
observed on the moor: “He stood with his legs a little separated, his arms folded, his head bowed, as if he
were brooding over that enormous wilderness of peat and granite which lay before him. He might have been
the very spirit of that terrible place” (518; emphasis added).
Jesse Oak Taylor-Ide argues that this description is one sign of Holmes’ liminality as a mediator between
the rational, and the irrational and supernatural (Taylor-Ide, 55). In order to solve the mystery Holmes must
enter the hound’s domain, “not merely as a visitor as Watson does, but as one who lets the moor permeate
his own being” (62). By this line of argument, Holmes is as much a part of the moor as the hound of legend and
the prehistoric humans and their dwellings, which dot the landscape. It should also not be forgotten how, at
the beginning of the novel, Holmes spends the afternoon with his spirit hovering over the Devonshire map, or
the moor (Doyle, 424), gathering information. Taylor-Ide directs attention to the ambiguity of Holmes’
statement, pointing out how the connotations of ‘spirit’ are linked to the faculty of reason (Taylor-Ide, 60). As
Taylor-Ide compares Holmes’ examination of the map to a shamanistic trance and meditation (60), he implies
that Holmes’ methods are not strictly within the realm of science, unlike the detective prefers to claim them to
be. In order to enter the Gothic genre narrative, Holmes must adjust his own genre markers, resulting in
actions and deductions that might not be considered pure or unmixed representations of detective fiction
genre features.
In spite of this, the so called ‘preferred methods’ resume once Holmes returns to the story, as he wastes
no time in explaining how he knew Watson was waiting for him in one of the ancient stone huts: “If you
seriously desire to deceive me, you must change your tobacconist; for when I see the stub of a cigarette
marked Bradley, Oxford Street, I know that my friend Watson is in the neighbourhood” (Doyle, 551). With
similar swiftness he informs Watson of Stapleton’s role in the mystery, readily beginning to unveil the
intricacies that have puzzled the good doctor. As Holmes reveals that Miss Stapleton is, in fact, Mrs Stapleton,
Watson pieces the clues together, not by deduction, but by instinct: “All my unspoken instincts, my vague
 31

suspicions, suddenly took shape and centred upon the naturalist. In that impassive, colourless man, […] I
seemed to see something terrible – a creature of infinite patience and craft, with a smiling face and a
murderous heart” (555). Although he could not collect and combine all the clues to arrive at a clear resolution,
the Gothic genre resemblance of Merripit House would appear to have served Watson well. Holmes, on the
other hand, identified Stapleton by following through a passing remark about him being a schoolmaster and
pouring over “scholastic agencies” (556) to reveal the man’s identity and marital status. This is not to claim
that Holmes is completely immune to being perplexed. As the two find Selden dead on the tor, the hound
claiming its second victim, Holmes ponders on how the man could have known the beast was on his trail,
dismissing Watson’s explanation: “To hear a hound upon the moor would not work a hard man like this
convict into such a paroxysm of terror that he would risk recapture by screaming wildly for help” (Doyle, 562),
bringing once more into question the hound’s true nature, even though Holmes notes how “an investigator
needs facts, and not legends or rumours. It has not been a satisfactory case” (566; emphasis added),
reinforcing his attention towards the detective genre frame. Although Holmes is certain of Stapleton’s guilt,
since, after all, as Clausson points out, he guessed at the criminal back in London, the final revelation, the
conclusion to the hermeneutic task of solving the detective mystery is postponed, for Holmes does not have a
case, “not a shadow of one […] We have to prove all this, and we are not in a position to do it […] No, my dear
fellow; we must reconcile ourselves to the fact that we have no case at present, and that it is worth our while
to run any risk to establish one” (567). Indeed, as the detective genre structure demands evidence before the
culprit can be brought to justice, Holmes is more inclined to arrest the entire Baskerville household for aiding
the convict Selden, for “Watson’s reports are most incriminating documents” (569). As such, the hound’s
mystery remains until the final act and even then, neither Watson nor Holmes is prepared to face the creature
stalking Sir Henry.
Back at Baskerville Hall, Holmes is greatly interested in the Baskerville family portraits. Framing the
portrait of Hugo Baskerville with his arm, Holmes amazes Watson as “the face of Stapleton had sprung out of
the canvas” (572). As Holmes explains, his eyes “have been trained to examine faces and not their trimmings.
It is the first quality of a criminal investigator that he should see through a disguise” (572). However,
Stapleton’s disguise could be argued to a temporal one, “an interesting instance of a throw-back, which
appears to be both physical and spiritual” (572; emphasis added). Holmes’ remark on the importance of
deductive science is immediately followed by his allusion to regression, the common feature in Victorian
Gothic stories. In this instance, Stapleton’s resemblance to Hugo Baskerville from the Hound legend, as well as
Holmes’ aforementioned comment on this resemblance, could be argued to be a signal of Stapleton’s
regression back to the monstrous Hugo, a stock tyrant at home in any Gothic story. The family resemblance
nevertheless completes the puzzle, naming Stapleton as a Baskerville vying for the family inheritance, and
providing him with a motive for the murder of Sir Charles and Sir Henry (572-573). With his case thus complete,
Holmes moves to catch the culprit. In order to stop Stapleton, Holmes and Watson plan to force him play his
 32

hand and release the hound while Holmes, Watson, and Lestrade of Scotland Yard lie in wait. The creature that
emerges from the fog, however, takes the men by surprise, as it echoes all the previous mentions of the
animalistic savagery associated with the moor and its inhabitants:
A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever
seen. Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with smouldering glare, its muzzle and
hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame. Never in the delirious dream of a disordered
brain could anything more savage, more appalling, more hellish, be conceived than that dark form
and savage face which broke upon us out of the wall of fog. (588)
Yet as soon as the hound lies dead on the ground and Watson reaches to touch the hound’s muzzle, he
exclaims, “phosphorus” (591), instantly clearing any doubt as to the hound’s origin by presenting a rational
and scientific explanation to its otherworldly, supernatural appearance. Holmes also offers a fairly mundane
reason for Stapleton’s complex schemes, namely the Baskerville inheritance (604). However, as Clausson
points out, this is the explanation offered from the perspective of the ratiocinative detective story narrative
(Clausson, 69): “As in countless Gothic tales, Stapleton’s criminality is exaggerated, overdetermined. His crimes
are multiple”, details which once again are excessive for the purpose of the detective plot (Clausson, 70). It
should be noted that in the end, Stapleton does not receive earthly justice: in his frenzy to flee his potential
captors, he rushes into the Grimpen Mire where, “if the earth told a true story, then Stapleton never reached
that island of refuge towards which he struggled through the fog […] Somewhere in the heart of the great
Grimpen Mire, down in the foul slime of the huge morass which had sucked him in, this cold and cruel-hearted
man is for ever buried” (Doyle, 599). Holmes’ declaration, “We have our case, and now we only want our man”
(593) is swallowed, along with Stapleton. The bog serves the final supernatural element in the novel, “its
tenacious grip plucked at our heels as we walked, and when we sank into it it was as if some malignant hand
was tugging us down into those obscene depths, so grim and purposeful was the clutch in which it held us”
(597). True to any Gothic villain, Stapleton is eventually undone by the supernatural reflecting his own moral
failings.
It can be argued that the way in which the narrative in The Hound of the Baskervilles alternates between
dialogue led by Holmes and descriptive narration by Watson enhances the effect that different parts have for
reading the story. Holmes presents a methodical approach originating from reason to solve the problem given
to him, whereas Watson’s philosophical musings concerning the nature of humanity would appear to serve the
purpose of, similar to the legend told at the beginning of the novel, creating an atmosphere where the logical,
scientific approach of deduction is tested in attempting to rationalise the unknown. Even as Watson attempts
to solve the little mysteries he is able to, he is soon reminded of how the seemingly supernatural forces
function in direct opposition to his attempts. It is only after Holmes’ return that the realm of the mysterious
abates. However, the attempt at Sir Henry’s life could be viewed as having been orchestrated by another
rational and educated mind, which calls to question the extent with which logic and science can triumph over
 33

the unknown, since Stapleton uses the guise latter as a means to an end in advancing his schemes. Although
the gloomy and desolate moor provides a traditionally Gothic setting for the story, it might not be unfounded
to posit that the Gothic found in The Hound of the Baskervilles acts as a foil to the detective story elements,
deepening the mystery presented to not only Holmes but to the reader as well. Moreover, the pervasive
gloom of the moor brings to question how effective Holmes’ efforts have ultimately been, as although Sir
Henry is safe, the reasons behind Stapleton’s depravity go unanswered by Holmes’ explanations. Stapleton, in
a fashion of the Gothic villains, holds power over both his wife and the destitute Mrs Laura Lyons, whom he
uses to accomplish his scheme in killing Sir Charles (605). Although both women suspected his involvement in
the death, they were “under his influence, and he had nothing to fear from them” (606).
Holmes recounts his deductions on Stapleton’s actions as he was preparing to set the hound on Sir
Henry as well, pointing out that there have been burglaries in the past few years and the culprit is most
probably Stapleton, who for years “has been a desperate and dangerous man” (608), which further
emphasises Stapleton’s regression from proper society. Yet, in his regression, the whole event “from the point
of view of the man who called himself Stapleton, was simple and direct, although to us, who had no means in
the beginning of knowing the motives of his actions and could only learn part of the facts, it all appeared
exceedingly complex” (602). However, for all the claimed simplicity Holmes appears to be unable to explain
Stapleton’s motives for the particular actions he has taken. Having eventually laid out his case for Watson to
marvel at, Holmes nevertheless admits how “the past and the present are within the field of my inquiry, but
what a man may do in the future is a hard question to answer” (612; emphasis added). This could be argued to
repeat the question whether science and reason can truly measure the depths of the human experience, a
question put forth by the early Gothic of the 18th century. Even Sherlock Holmes, with his deductive abilities
and trust in the detective genre frame, is unable to pierce the uncertainty that may wait in humanity’s future.

3.4. Evaluating the Text

It could be argued that the different generic features, both Gothic and those of detective fiction, are present
from the onset in The Hound of the Baskervilles. The title could be viewed as decidedly Gothic, evoking the
images of the black dogs and hounds often found in legends originating from the British Isles. Through the
novel’s title, the story is presented as Gothic, allowing the reader to enter a Gothic genre frame in preparing to
read the story. This Gothic feature is, however, immediately brought into opposition with the beginning of the
novel, which identifies Sherlock Holmes, the detective, as the protagonist of the novel. Moreover, Holmes’
very first action is having Watson test his deductive abilities on a walking cane, in a sequence ever-present in
the Holmes canon. Adjusting to this frame, Holmes’ cognitive abilities prove, predictably, superior to Watson’s
and the reader can rest assured in his or her confirmation of this expected outcome. Furthermore, this small
problem at the beginning of the novel, along with the arrival of a character presumed to be a client seeking
 34

Holmes’ advice, primes the reader to be attentive for clues pertaining to the actual detective mystery of the
novel, no doubt provided by the client, Doctor Mortimer. However, this sequence, as pointed out by by James
and John M. Kissane in “Sherlock Holmes and The Ritual of Reason”, serves another function as well: it
establishes Watson’s role in the novel, for “throughout the middle section of the novel it is he, not Holmes,
whom we observe conducting the investigation” (358).
Instead of a problem, Doctor Mortimer instead provides a Gothic tale with several traditional features
and stock characters, such as the villainous tyrant and the damsel in distress attempting to flee his grasp. The
supernatural hound chasing after them eventually causes their deaths before mysteriously appearing to once
again terrorize the Baskervilles generations later. Yet, Holmes is not tasked with solving the recent death of Sir
Charles, once again resulting in the deprivation of the generic task usually present in detective fiction. Instead,
Holmes is asked to advise on whether the young Baskerville heir should claim his ancestral home despite
sighting of the hellhound of legend. Holmes resolves to send Watson to Baskerville Hall to guard the heir so
that no harm may befall him. The problem presented in the novel could thus be viewed as solving the true
nature of the hellhound, with the assurance that, following the detective genre frame there should be a logical
reasoning to the hound’s existence.
At Dartmoor, Watson is sent to a reality deriving from the Gothic tradition. As has been pointed out
above, the Baskerville Hall, the moor, and the mire could be viewed as extensions of the Gothic castle motif,
signalling that the protagonist is stranded away from his usual habitat and has to face the horror of the Gothic,
or more accurately, the underlying fears hiding behind the veneer of horror. On the one hand, Watson’s
evocative descriptions, when read in the Gothic genre frame, bring forth the fears and uncertainty descriptive
of the Victorian Gothic, visions of the past colouring an uncertain future that may yet return to the past era,
taking the height of civilisation alongside it. On the other hand, when read in the detective fiction genre frame,
Watson’s excessive musings and ponderings as to the nature of humanity would appear distracting and not
particularly relevant to the problem under consideration, that of the nature of the hounds and its guiding hand.
Fortunately from this point of view, Holmes’ timely arrival ensures that the focus of the story is kept on the
task at hand, although he would seem to have solved the mystery during Watson waxing Gothic about the
landscape. This is perhaps what Kermode would refer to as a distraction from the hermeneutic task, with long
passages containing scarcely any useful information as to solving the characteristic genre task.
Should the Gothic genre features and the detective fiction genre features appear to be in opposition of
each other, the question arises whether the reader should abandon one generic frame in favour of the other.
After all, Gothic features act only to distract the reader with excessive information, drowning out the relative
clues, whereas detective features encroach on the inexplicable, threatening to erase its mystery and reveal
everything to the reader. And yet, separating intermixed genres might not be feasible, or even desirable,
especially when two opposing genres are used to modulate each other. As Nünning points out, to not be
aware of generic characteristics may lead to quite fundamental misunderstandings (66). Deliberately ignoring
 35

generic frames can thus result in an entirely different reading that is intended. The Gothic genre features,
working against the deductive task, could be argued to enhance it by placing a contrast on different actions.
Gothic genre conventions act by deepening the mystery, adding features that may be uncommon in detective
fiction. The growing mystery, akin to the devouring bog slowly but steadily close in on the reader until, at the
last moment, the deductive powers of reasoning clear away all confusion and restore order, bringing the
characters back to safe modernity from the darkness of the encroaching past, ensuring that rationalization and
logic prevail even in the most remote of locations. James and John M. Kissane view this as essential to the
novel’s design:
The solution of the mystery is not intended to teach anything new or strange, only to
demonstrate, to re-enact in terms of a situation at one concrete and idealized, the comforting
drama of reason asserting its power in a natural world to which it is perfectly attuned. (Kissane
and Kissane, 360)
In this way, the Gothic is utilized in modulating the detective novel, adding hints of atmosphere and colour
with its locales and stock characters, while still compartmentalized so as to not overtly interfere with the
generic task, quite to the contrary.
Reading The Hound of the Baskervilles using a detective fiction frame with Gothic modulations is not,
however, the only possible reading. If one were to approach the novel as a genre hybrid, “where two or more
sets of generic features are present in such proportions that no one of them dominates” (Fowler, 183), a
reader could find aspects hidden by reading the novel only as either a predominantly Gothic novel or
predominantly detective novel. As previously established, both of these genres are present in the novel from
the beginning, from the title to the presentation of the protagonist. The differing generic features signal
different qualities but need not be in contrast or, indeed, in contest with each other. The title primes the
reader for a Gothic tale, whereas the introduction of Sherlock Holmes signals a detective novel. Generic
frames, as noted by Nünning, manage the expectations a reader has on the texts he or she examines. With
these expectations in mind, a reader aware of genres and their features and conventions could recall the
unique quality of the detective novel, its pre-eminent hermeneutic content, as coined by Kermode, which sets
a task of solving the central problem. There are, however, several problems present in the novel, beginning
with the question on Doctor Mortimer’s cane, the mysterious death of Sir Charles, and the mystery of Sir
Henry’s missing boot, not to mention all the problems Watson presents to himself during his stay at Baskerville
Hall in his attempt to advance the hermeneutic task in Holmes’ absence. An attentive reader keeping in mind
the Gothic frame might notice the titles of Doctor Mortimer’s essays alluding to Victorian Gothic conventions.
These features may not be distractions from the detective story; on the contrary, the Gothic features could
themselves be clues, not towards solving the problem outright, but towards reading the text’s generic features
as clues. The legend of the hound places several genre features out for a reader aware of these conventions.
Thus, when Watson is placed in an ostensibly Gothic mise-en-scène, the question becomes where the other
 36

features are located. After all, a work can be coded, as Fowler notes, by introducing conventions with familiar
features, such as thematic parallels or stock characters. A Gothic tale proceeding similarly to the Hound legend,
which helped to establish one of the novel’s generic frames, would require similar features and stock
characters to be present. The castle motif extends far to the moor and the bog, yet it is missing its inhabitants.
Watson’s description of Merripit House, in its Gothic intertextuality and generic allusion, casts doubt upon the
Stapletons, even if Watson later describes his vague doubts born out of instinct. A reader, in his or her role as
the detective, on the other hand, may quickly realize the implications in regards to this description if he or she
keeps the Gothic frame in mind.
Paying attention to the Gothic genre features as clues for the solving of the genre task may not appear
dissimilar to simple modulation. However, keeping in mind the genre task presented by detective fiction,
attention turns to Holmes’ accomplishment of the hermeneutic activity. Over the course of his investigation,
Holmes balances on the line of the pure, ratiocinative detective and the mediator towards Gothic genre
features. If Holmes carries out the hermeneutic task utilizing his liminal nature between the two genres, it
could be argued that the reader might adopt a similar approach. The reader’s role as the detective concerns
his or her ability to look deeper into genre features and into the historical context. The task presented shifts
past the death of Sir Charles and the nature of the hound, instead taking a focus on the underlying genre
features and their deeper meaning. Even though Holmes claims Stapleton’s motives to be simple and direct,
he offers no explanation as to the specific choice of the hound, in opposition to other ways of removing the
Baskervilles. The anxiety towards the past found in Victorian Gothic could be argued to cast uncertainty
towards the present and the future, with the fear of regression at the forefront. Lawrence Frank argues in
“The Hound of the Baskervilles, the Man on the Tor, and a Metaphor for the Mind” (1999) that, as the very
spirit of the Gothic mise-en-scène,
Holmes ponders issues beyond those raised by the case of the spectral hound: he broods upon
the implications of human origins and the possibility–perhaps inevitability–of extinction. But as he
considers the landscape before him, he will find that it offers metaphors for the mind that will
restore to human consciousness the aura of mystery that a biological determinism would seem to
deny. (344; emphasis added)
By immersing himself in the moor’s influence, Holmes turns his mind towards the very questions and anxieties
that incited proponents of the Romantic movement, such as Horace Walpole, to challenge the Enlightenment
rationalism. The Gothic genre frame thus encourages both the hero-detective within the story as well as the
reader-detective to enter a discourse centred on the allegories and historical context of Gothic genre features.
Moreover, and perhaps more interesting when considering generic intertextuality and the relations between
texts, is Frank’s claim that his reading shows a link between Holmes, and John Tyndall’s 1870 essay “Scientific
Use of the Imagination”:
 37

I would like to believe that a seventeen-year-old Doyle, entering upon his days as a medical
student at Edinburgh University […] might have come upon the fifth edition of the Fragments of
Science, […] and felt that Tyndall was addressing him directly as an “able Catholic student” (Frank,
347)
This, according to Frank’s argument, resulted in Tyndall’s reflections, which he uses as closing paragraphs in
his essay, while standing on Matterhorn in 1868, directly informing Holmes and Watson’s experiences on the
moor in The Hound of the Baskervilles (Frank, 347-348). Such communication between texts is, as Fowler has
pointed out, among the main values of genres and genre theory.
It could thus be argued that the genre hybridity in The Hound of the Baskervilles allows differing genre
features present in the novel to enhance each other without one overpowering the other. This could be traced
to the way in which the narrative is split between the primary characters, each predominantly embodying one
feature. However, these embodiments are not genre ‘pure’, instead including features of the other, which
allows the two to interact in new, innovative ways while still maintaining a generic structure. Holmes’
ratiocinative approach to the matter with the hound is undermined by his own liminality embodying Gothic
features, yet he still carries out his investigation in accordance with the detective genre frame of the
hermeneutic task. Watson, on the other hand, struggles with the Gothic locale he has been thrust into, but still
dutifully writes down every detail he might come across, even when this results in fantastical depictions not
necessarily relevant to the detective story. However, there is an argument to be made on how irrelevant
Watson’s descriptions truly are. As James and John M. Kissane point out, “a major technical problem faced by
all detective-story writers who depend upon hero-detectives”, is how to “preserve mystery through the length
of a novel without casting doubt upon the superior intelligence of the master sleuth?” (Kissane and Kissane,
358). After all, the reader is solving the mystery simultaneously with the detective, and should the latter solve
the problem prematurely before the story can be brought to a satisfying close, the reader may not be entirely
satisfied. Doyle’s answer to this question is for Holmes to “yield[s] the stage to Watson and withdraw[s]
behind the scenes” (Kissane and Kissane, 358). Thus, “when the reader must experience uncertainty he shares
with Watson as he follows his diligent but rather unenlightened maneuvers; when time comes for an
éclaircissement, Holmes, his supreme intellect uncompromised, reappears to provide it” (358). Although this
reading focuses on the detective story, the Gothic descriptions are hardly irrelevant, since they are woven into
the formulaic structure of the detective story genre in order to keep the mystery hidden from the reader until
the point of closure. That is not to claim that the Gothic genre features are only in service of the detective
story either. After all, the Gothic elements enable readings such as Frank’s, mentioned before. This contrasting
yet complementing mixture of two different genres additionally provides a potential genre aware reader with
several different ways of reading, depending on which genre frame he or she chooses to address, without
foregoing the possibility for simultaneous frames. The reader, as Isomaa emphasises, proposes the
interpretation of a text, and under an interpretative model, the proposed interpretation is informed by the
 38

choice in frame. This is perhaps the core asset of a genre hybrid. By combining different genres an author may
enable different ways in which he or she communicates with previous literary texts and how, in turn, others
communicate with and interpret the author’s text and its genres. Whereas Poe in “The Murders in the Rue
Morgue” generically framed his ur-detective by introducing the story proper as a discourse on the benefits of
analysis over ingenuity, so too could it be argued that Doyle’s innovation materialises in the way in which he
prepares and frames his generic hybrid from the outset in The Hound of the Baskervilles, opening the
discussion on the contrast between the Gothic and detective stories, and most importantly, encouraging the
reader to take part in this discourse through the generic frame of detective fiction’s pre-eminent hermeneutic
task on solving a posed problem. Utilizing this generic mixture, it could be further argued that Doyle has
managed to elevate the different generic features without completely breaking their structural elements, or
being completely bound by them. Furthermore, by separating the generic features into representative
characters, each containing a mixture of differing features, he ensures that the ostensibly conflicting generic
features would not oppose and erase one another, instead allowing them to interact through the
representative characters. In this fashion, Doyle has created a genre hybrid that can endure multiple
examinations, as there could be new interpretations with each examination and interaction.
 39

4. Conclusion

In conclusion, this study set out to examine the generic features found in The Hound of the Baskervilles,
focusing on Gothic and detective fiction, as well as the interaction between their generic features, and how
this interaction’s genre mixture affected the novel as a work of detective fiction. In order to achieve this goal,
a model based on interpretative genre theory was established for the purposes of analysing meaningful genre
markers, through which the interpretative model could be employed. As one of the goals of the study was to
find meaningful generic resemblances between literary texts, a descriptive approach to genre theory was
chosen, since this theory is more concerned with finding shared meaning between generic texts, as opposed to
the more classificatory prescriptive method. The central generic features and conventions of both Gothic and
detective fiction were further examined in a context of generic tradition, so that the generic markers found in
the text could be more readily identified. After identification, the markers were interpreted in relation to the
previously established common generic features. After this phase, the text was evaluated based on its use of
generic features and conventions.
An initial argument was that the generic markers found in The Hound of the Baskervilles would correlate
with the contrasting concepts of fantasy for Gothic fiction, and reason for detective fiction. Furthermore,
these markers would be divided between the two primary characters of the novel, Doctor Watson and
Sherlock Holmes, respectively. The basis for this suggestion was the way in which the Gothic is often
characterised by supernatural events in order to create an inexplicable atmosphere. By contrast, detective
fiction was argued to focus more on rationalizing events to form probable deductions and arrive at a solution
to a presented problem. Research into the generic tradition revealed a correlation with the initial idea in
regards to the generic features of the examined genres, although the historical and allegorical aspects of
Gothic fiction were revealed to be more relevant than the initially proposed fantastical aspects. Of the two,
detective fiction appeared to be more structured in its features, with greater importance placed on the
solution to a perceived problem in a text in the form of the hermeneutic genre task.
Utilizing the interpretative framework, generic markers were identified in the text. While the initial
argument of division between characters and generic features was not entirely incorrect, there was surprising
overlap between features, with both Doctor Watson and Sherlock Holmes exhibiting markers from both
genres. Moreover, upon interpreting the generic markers, both characters appeared to contribute to both
features, although Holmes’ sections were more concerned with the detective genre task, whereas Watson’s
sections primarily enabled the Gothic elements. Nevertheless, both generic features corresponded with the
concept of generic resemblance, linking to the wider generic tradition of their respective genres.
Evaluating the use of genre features in The Hound of the Baskervilles revealed a difference with the
initial argument. Originally the genre features found in the novel were thought to be concentrated on the
 40

Gothic features modulating the detective novel as an opposed force, with the Gothic’s fantasy eventually
being removed by the detective fiction’s reason. However, both previous studies on the novel as well as the
evaluation of genre features undertaken in this study revealed that, while there is apparent contrast between
the two genres, they are not as opposed as initially thought. Instead, the different genre elements were found
to complement and enhance each other, in addition to enhancing the split narratives between Watson’s
Gothic musings and Holmes’ ratiocinative detective story. The combined genre hybrid also revealed the
possibility for different types of readings, particularly concerning the Gothic’s underlying historical aspect and
its allegorical question on the nature of the human experience. Further research on the topic could include
how Gothic genre features might influence other, differing genres through this historical aspect in other
literary texts, or whether being influenced by another genre could change the nature of Gothic genre features,
or how prevalent such change could be around the world.
The methodology employed in this study proved to be appropriate in approaching genre as a means of
interpreting literature. The concept of generic resemblance, in particular, revealed how extensive the relations
between different texts could be. Although this study focused on only a single novel and two genres, opting
not to create a more extensive, in-depth comparison between all the texts introduced for the purposes of the
study, the true potential of an interpretative genre model could be argued to be in its applicability to analysing
large quantities of literary texts and their intertextual connections. Indeed, some of the reference material
utilized in this study featured topics such as modification of generic types in a historic context, or Finnish
realism as a part of the larger Nordic literary tradition. Genre in interpretation could also be utilized in finding
new meanings in a given text through its generic resemblance and generic allusion to other works, regardless
of their perceived generic type. Additionally, genre theory does not necessarily benefit only scholars, literary
critics, or researchers interested in examining generic relations between different texts, but it could also
benefit readers in finding new ways of approaching the texts they read or giving a better understanding on
their reading habits and choices in literature.
 41

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